
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 





























































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Mr. Clifton 
of Barrington 


A POPULAR NOVEL. 


BY 

MRS. J. F\ REICH HARD. 


New York: 

J. S. OGILVIE, PUBLISHER, 
57 Rose Street. 


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TWENTY-FIVE 
1 - - SERMONS 

OTT 

The Holy Land. 

33 "ST 

Rev. T. De Witt Talmage, D.D. 


No Series of Sermons ever delivered by this 
famous preacher has created such a widespread and 
intense interest as this. These Sermons describe with 
v ivid interest the scenes, incidents and many various 
experiences met with in the Holy Land, the land in 
which people are now more interested than ever 
before. 

Among’ the hundreds of thousands of people who 
have read the utterances of this wonderfully success- 
ful preacher there are none but will be glad to have 
this book. Read the following 

TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

1. Eve of Departure— 2. I Must also See Rome — 3 A Med- 
iterranean Voyage — 4. Paul’s Mission in Athens — 5. Life and 
Death of Dorcas — 6. The Glory of Solomon's Reign — 7. Peace, 
Be Still — 8 The Marriage Feast— 9. Christmas Eve in the Holy 
Land— 10. The Joyful Surprise— 11. How a King’s Life was 
Saved— 12. The Philippian Earthquake— 13. What is in a Name? 
— 4 The Half was not Told Me. — 15. I Went Up to Jerusalem. 
— l(i. On the Housetop in Jerusalem — 17. The Journey to Jeri- 
cho — is. He Toucheth the Hills and They Smoke — 19. Solomon 
in all His Gk ry — 20. The Journey to Bethel — 21. Incidents in 
Palestine— 22. Among the Holy Hills.— 23. Our Sail on Lake 
Galilee— 24. On to Damascus— 25. Across Mount Lebanon. 

It contains 320 pages in paper cover, and will be 
sent by mail, postpaid, to any address on receipt of 25 
cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.50; Half Russia, $2.00. 
Agents wanted. Address all orders to 

J. S. OGILVIE, Publisher, 

57 Rose Street, New York. 


A POPULAR NOVEL 


i 

BY 


v 

MRS. J. F\ REICHHARD. 

V 


Copyright, 1891 , by J. S. Ogilvie. 



THE PEERLESS SERIES, No. 30. Issued Monthly. February, 1891. Subscription, $3 per year. 
Entered at New York Post-Office as second-class matter. Copyright, 1890, by J. S. Ogilvie. 











New York* 

J. S. OGILVIE, PUBLISHER, 
57 Rose Street. 


* 


'X 


/ 


t. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


CHAPTER I. 

In an easy-chair of the handsome library of his town- 
house sat William Barrington. His hair was gray, the 
smoothness of his expansile brow was defaced by prema- 
ture wrinkles, and his once attractive face bore the*pale, 
unmistakable look of dissipation. One of his feet was 
cased in folds of linen as it rested on the soft velvet otto- 
man, speaking of gout as plainly as any foot ever spoke 
yet. It would seem, to look at the man as he sat there, 
that he had grown old before his time. And so he had. 
His years were barely forty-nine, yet in all save years he 
was an aged man. 

A noted character had been William Barrington. Not 
that he had been a renowned politician, or a great general, 
or an eminent statesman, or even an active member of 
Congress; not for any of these had his name been in the 
mouths of men. But for the most reckless among the 
reckless, for the spendthrift among spendthrifts, for the 
gamester above all gamesters, and for a gay man outstrip- 
ping the gay — by these characteristics did the world know 
William Barrington. It was said his faults were those of 
his head, that a better heart or a more generous spirit 
never beat in human form; and there was much truth in 
this. It had been well for him had he lived and died a 
poor law student. Up to his twenty-fifth year he had 
been industrious, and steady, and very ambitious, and he 
knew that on his own talents and exertions must depend 
his rising in the world. 

He was of excellent family, but poor. It never dawned 
upon his mind that there was a possibility of his having a 
fortune left to him, when one morning he awoke to find 
himself the lawful possessor of sixty thousand a year. His 
first idea was that he should never be able to spend the 


4 


MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON’. 


money — that such a sum, year by year, could not be spent. 
It was a wonder his head was not turned by adulation at 
the onset, for he was courted, flattered, and caressed by 
all classes. 

He became the attractive man of the day, the lion in 
society; for, independent of his newly Required wealth, he 
was of distinguished appearance and fascinating manners. 
But unfortunately the prudence which had sustained Will- 
iam Barrington, the poor law student, entirely forsook the 
wealthy William, and he commenced his career on a scale 
of speed so great that all staid people said he was going to 
ruin and the deuce headlong. 

But one who has sixty thousand a year does not go to 
ruin in a day. There sat William in his library now, in 
his forty-ninth year, and ruin had not come yet — that is, 
it had not overwhelmed him. But the embarrassments 
which had clung to him and been the destruction of his 
tranquillity, the bane of his existence — who shall describe 
them? The public knew them pretty well, his private 
friends knew better, his creditors best; but none save him- 
self knew, or could ever know, the worrying torment that 
was his portion, well-nigh driving him to distraction. 
Years ago, by dint of looking things steadily in the face 
and by economizing, he might have retrieved his position; 
but he had done what most people do in such cases — put 
off the evil day and gone on increasing his enormous list 
of debts. The hour of exposure and ruin was now ad- 
vancing fast. 

Perhaps William Barrington was thinking so, as he sat 
there before an enormous mass of papers which strewed 
the library-table. His thoughts were of the past. That 
was a foolish match of his — that match for love — foolish so 
far as prejudice went; but she had been an affectionate 
wife to him, and had borne with his follies and his neglect, 
had been an admirable mother to their only child — one 
child alone had been theirs — and in her thirteenth year 
the mother had died, and — 

“ If you please, sir,” said a servant, entering the room 
and interrupting his thoughts, “ a gentleman is asking to 
see you. ” 

“ Who?” cried Mr. Barrington, sharply, not perceiving 
the card the man was bringing. 

No unknown person, although wearing the externals of 


ME. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 5 

a foreign embassador, was ever admitted unceremoniously 
to the presence of Mr. Barrington. Years of duns had 
taught the servants caution. 

“ His card is here. It is Mr. Clifton, of Clifton 
Manor. ” 

“Mr. Clifton/ of Clifton Manor !” groaned Mr. Bar- 
rington, whose foot just then had an awful twinge. 
“ What does he want? Show him up.” 

The servant did as he was bid, and introduced Mr. Clif- 
ton. 

Look at the visitor well, reader, for he will play his part 
in this history. He was a tall man of remarkably noble 
presence for a man of twenty-seven; he was somewhat 
given to stooping his head when he spoke to any one 
shorter than himself. It was a peculiar habit, almost to 
be called a bowing habit, and his father had possessed it 
before him. ' When told of it he would laugh and say he 
was unconscious of doing it. His features were good, his 
complexion was pale and clear, his hair dark, and his full 
eyelids drooped over his deep gray eyes. Altogether it 
was a countenance that both men and women liked to look 
upon — the index of an honorable, sincere nature — not that 
it would have been called a handsome face, so much as a 
pleasing and distinguished one. Though but the son of a 
country lawyer, and destined to be a lawyer himself, he 
had received the training of a gentleman. He advanced 
at once to Mr. Barrington in the straightforward way of a 
man of business — of a man who has come on business. 

“ Mr. Barrington,” said the latter, holding out his 
hand — he was always deemed the most affable gentleman 
of the age. 

“ 1 am happy to see you. You perceive I can not rise, 
at least without great pain and inconvenience. My 
enemy, the gout, has possession of me again. Take a 
seat. Are you staying in town?” 

“ 1 have just arrived from Clifton Manor. The chief 
object of iny* journey was to see you, Mr. Barrington.” 

“ What can I do for you?” asked Mr. Barrington, un- 
easily; for a suspicion now crossed his mind that Mr. Clif- 
ton might be acting for some one of his many troublesome 
creditors. 

Mr. Clifton drew his chair nearer to Mr. Barrington, 
and spoke in a low tone. 


6 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


44 A rumor came to my ears, sir, that the Barrington 
estate was in the market.” 

44 A moment, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Barrington, with re- 
serve, not to say hauteur , in his tone, for his suspicions 
were gaining ground. 44 Are we to converse confidentially 
together, as men of honor, or is there something concealed 
behind?” 

44 1 do not understand you,” said Mr. Clifton. 

44 In a word— excuse my speaking plainly, but I must 
feel my ground — are you here on the part of some of my 
rascally creditors to pump information out of me that 
otherwise they would not get?” 

44 Mr. Barrington,” uttered the visitor, 44 1 should be in- 
capable of so dishonorable an action. I know that a lawyer 
gets credit for possessing but lax notions on the score of 
honor, but you can scarcely suspect that I should be guilty 
of underhand work toward you. 1 never was guilty of a 
mean trick in my life, to my recollection, and 1 do not 
think now, at the age of twenty-seven, I will undertake to 
do one. ” 

44 Pardon me, Mr. Clifton. If you knew half the tricks 
and ruses played upon me, you would not wonder at me 
suspecting all the world. Proceed with your business.” 

44 1 heard that the Barrington estate was for private sale; 
your agent dropped half a word in confidence. If so, I 
should wish to be th§ purchaser. ’ 9 

44 For whom?” inquired Mr. Barrington. 

44 Myself.” 

44 You!” laughed Mr. Barrington. 44 Egad, lawyering 
can’t be such bad work, Clifton.” 

44 Nor is it,” rejoined Mr. Clifton, 44 with an extensive 
first-class connection such as ours. But you must remem- 
ber that a good fortune was left me by my uncle, and a 
large one by my father.” 

44 1 know, the proceeds of lawyering also.” 

44 Not altogether. My mother brought a fortune on her 
marriage, and it enabled my father to speculate success- 
fully; I have been looking about for an eligible property to 
invest my money upon, and the Barrington estate will suit 
me well, provided I can have the refusal of it and we can 
agree about terms.” 

Mr. Barrington mused a few moments before he spoke. 

44 Mr. Clifton,” he began, 44 my affairs are very bad, and 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


7 


ready money 1 must find somewhere. Now, the Barrington 
estate is not entailed, neither is it mortgaged to anything 
like its value, though the latter fact, as you may imagine, 
is not patent to the world. When I bought it at a bargain 
eighteen years ago you were the lawyer on the other side, 
I remember. ” 

“ My father,” smiled Mr. Clifton; “ 1 was a child at the 
time. ” 

“ Of course, 1 ought to have said your father. By sell- 
ing the Barrington estate a few thousands will come into my 
hands, after claims on it are settled; I have no other 
means of raising funds, and that is why 1 have resolved to 
part with it. But, now understand, if it were known that 
the Barrington estate is going from me I should have a 
hornet’s nest about my ears; so that it must be disposed of 
privately. Do you comprehend?” 

“ Perfectly,” replied Mr. Clifton. 

“ 1 would as soon you bought it as any one else, if, as 
you say, we can agree about terms.” 

“ What do you expect for it at a rough estimate?” 

“ For particulars 1 must refer you to my men of busi- 
ness, Messrs. Stevenson & Taylor. Not less than three 
hundred and fifty thousand.” 

“ Too much, Mr. Barrington!” cried Mr. Clifton, de- 
cisively. 

“And that’s not its value,” returned Mr. Barrington. 
“ These forced sales never do fetch their value,” answered 
the plain-speaking lawyer. 

“ Until this hint was given me by Woodbridge, 1 had 
thought the Barrington estate was settled on your daugh- 
ter.” 

“ There’s nothing settled on her,” rejoined Mr. Barring- 
ton, the contraction of his brow standing out more plain- 
ly. “ That comes of thoughtless runaway marriages. I 
fell in love with General Milton’s daughter, and she went 
away with me, like a fool; that is, we were both fools to- 
gether for our pains. The general objected to me, and said 
I must sow my wild oats before he would give me Helena; 
so we ran away, and she became my wife without a settle- 
ment. It was an unfortunate affair, taking one thing with 
another. When her elopement was made known to the 
general it killed him — ” 

“ Killed him?” interrupted Mr. Clifton, 


8 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“ It did. He had disease of the heart, and the excite- 
ment brought on the crisis. My poor wife was never happy 
from that hour; she blamed herself for her father's death, 
and I believe it led to her own. She was ill for years; the 
doctors called it consumption, but it was more like wasting 
away, and a consumption never had been in her family. No 
luck ever attends runaway marriages; I have noticed it 
since, in many— many instances; something bad is sure to 
turn up from it." 

“ There might have been a settlement executed after the 
marriage," observed Mr. Clifton, for the old gentleman 
stopped and seemed lost in thought. 

I know there might; but there was not. My wife had 
possessed no fortune; 1 was already deep in my career of 
extravagance, and neither of us thought of making provis- 
ion for our future children; and if we thought of it, we 
did not do it. There is an old saying, Mr. Clifton, that 
what may be done at any time is never done." 

Mr. Clifton bowed. 

“ So my child is portionless," resumed Mr. Barrington, 
with a suppressed sigh. “ The thought that it may be an 
embarrasing thing for her, were I to die before she is set- 
tled in life, crosses my mind when I am in a serious mood. 
That she will marry well there is little doubt, for she pos- 
sesses beauty in a rare degree, and has been reared as a 
good girl should be, not to frivolity and foppery; she was 
trained by her mother (who, save for the mad act she was 
persuaded to do by me, was all goodness and refinement) for 
twelve years of her life, and since then by an admirable 
governess. No fear that she will decamp on a runaway 
marriage." 

“ She was a very lovely child," observed the lawyer; “ I 
remember that." 

“ Ay, you have seen her at Barrington in her mother’s 
life-time. But to return to business. If you become the 
purchaser of the Barrington estate, Mr. Clifton, it must be 
under the rose. The money that it brings, after paying 
off the mortgage, I must have, as 1 tell you, for private 
use; and you know that I should not be able to touch a 
penny of it if the confounded public got an inkling of the 
transfer. The world must know that I am the proprietor 
of Barrington, at least for some little time afterward. Per* 
haps you will not object to that." 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


9 


Mr. Clifton considered before replying, and then the 
conversation was resumed, when it was decided that he 
should see Stevenson & Taylor the first thing in the morn- 
ing and confer with them. It was growing late when he 
arose to leave. 

4 4 Stay and dine with me/’ said Mr. Barrington. 

Mr. Clifton hesitated, and looked down at his dress— a 
plain, gentlemanly morning attire, but certainly not a din- 
ner costume. 

“ Oh, that’s nothing; we shall be quite alone except my 
daughter. Mrs. Melborne, of The Pines, is staying with us; 
she came up to present my child at the last Drawing-room, 
but I think 1 heard something about her dining out to-day. 
If not, we will have it by ourselves here. Oblige me by 
touching the bell, Mr. Clifton.” 

The servant entered. 

44 Inquire whether Mrs. Melborne dines at home,” said 
Mr. Barrington.” 

“ Mrs. Melborne dines out, sir,” was the man’s imme- 
diate reply. 44 The carriage is at the door now.” 

44 Very well, Mr. Clifton remains. ” 

At seven o’clock the dinner was announced, and Mr. 
Barrington wheeled into the adjoining room. As he and 
Mr. Clifton entered it at one door, some one else came in 
by the opposite door. Who — what was it? Mr. Clifton 
looked, not quite sure whether it was a human being; he 
almost thought it more like an angel. A light, graceful, 
girlish form, a face of surpassing beautv---beauty that is 
rarely seen, save from the imagination of a painter — dark 
shining waves of hair falling over the delicate brow, her 
arms decorated with pearls, and a costly dress of white 
lace; altogether the vision did indeed look to the lawyer as 
one from a fairer world than this. 

44 My daughter, Mr. Clifton, Hazel Barrington.”' 

They took their seats at the table, Mr. Barrington at its 
head, in spite of his gout and foot-stool, and the young 
lady and Mr. Clifton opposite each other. Mr. Clifton 
had not deemed himself an admirer of woman’s beauty, 
but the extraordinary loveliness of the young girl before 
him nearly took away his senses and his self-possession. 
Yet it was not so much the perfect contour of the ex- 
quisite features that struck him, the rich damask of the 
delicate cheek, or the luxuriant hair; no, it was the sweet 


10 mi. CLIFTON OF BARllINGTON. 

expression of the soft dark eyes. Never in his life had he 
seen eyes so pleasing. He could not keep his gaze from 
her, and he became conscious as he became more familiar 
with her face that there was in its character a sad, sorrow- 
ful look; only at times was it to be noticed— when the 
features were in repose— and it lay chiefly in the very eyes 
he was admiring. Never does this unconsciously mournful 
expression exist but it is a sure index to sorrow and suffer- 
ing; but Mr. Clifton understood it not. And who could 
connect sorrow with the anticipated brilliant future of 
Hazel Barrington? 

“ Hazel, 1 see you are dressed for the evening.” 

“Yes, papa, not to keep Mrs. Melborne waiting; she 
went to dine with some friends, and I am to call for her 
on my way to the ball. ? ’ 

“ I hope you will not be late to-night. Hazel . 99 

“ It depends upon Mrs. Melborne.” 

“ Then 1 am sure you will be. When the young ladies 
in this fashionable world of ours turn night into day, it’s a 
bad thing for their roses. What say you, Mr. Clifton?” 

Mr. Clifton glanced at the roses on the cheeks opposite 
to him; they looked too fresh and bright to fade lightly. 

At the conclusion of the meal a maid entered the room 
with a white down mantle, placing it over the shoulders of 
her young lady, as she said the carriage was waiting. 

“ Good-bye, papa.” 

“ Good-night, my darling,? he answered, drawing her 
sweet face toward him and kissing it. “ Tell Mrs. Mel- 
borne 1 will not have you kept out till morning hours. You 
are but a child yet. Mr. Clifton, will you ring? 1 am de- 
barred from seeing my daughter to the carriage . 99 

“ If you will allow me — if Miss Barrington will pardon 
the attendance of one little used to wait upon young ladies, 
I shall be proud to see her to her carriage,” was the some- 
what confused answer of Mr. Clifton, as he touched the bell. 

Mr. Barrington thanked him and the young lady smiled, 
and Mr. Clifton conducted her down the broad, lighted 
staircase, and stood bareheaded by the door of the luxurious 
carriage and handed her in. She put out her hand in her 
frank, pleasant manner, as she wished him good-night. 
The carriage rolled on its way, and Mr. Clifton returned 
t o the library. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 11 

“ Well, is she not a handsome girl?” demanded the old 
gentleman. 

“ Handsome is not the word for beauty such as hers,” 
was Mr. Clifton's reply, in a low, warm tone. “ I never 
saw a face half so beautiful!” 

“ She caused quite a sensation at the last grand recep- 
tion last week, as J hear. This everlasting gout kept me 
in-doors all day. And she is as good as she is beautiful.” 

The father of this beautiful girl was not partial. Hazel 
Barrington was wondrously gifted by nature, not only in 
mind and person, but in heart. She was as little like a 
fashionable young lady as was well possible to be, partly 
because she had hitherto been secluded from the great 
world, partly from the care bestowed upon her training. 
During the life-time of her mother she had lived mostly on 
the Barrington estate; since her mother's death she had re- 
mained under the charge of a j udicious governess. Gener- 
ous and benevolent, she was timid and. sensitive to a degree, 
gentle and considerate to all. Could the fate that was to 
overtake this child have been foreseen by her father he 
would have struck her down to death, in his love, as she 
stood before him, rather than suffer her to enter upon it. 


CHAPTER II. 

W hen Hazel drew up to the house of Mrs. Melborne's 
friend she found that lady was not quite ready, and as she 
entered the spacious parlors of the St. Clare mansion the 
dinner guests were just entering also. Hazel was quick to 
perceive at the moment a young and elegant man among 
the guests. He was deemed handsome, with his clearly cut 
features, his dark eyes, his raven-black hair, and his white 
teeth; but to a keen observer those features had not an at- 
tractive expression, and the dark eyes had a great knack 
of looking away while he spoke to you. It was Captain 
Redmond St. Clare. Few men were so fascinating in man- 
ners (at times and seasons), in face and form; few men won 
so completely upon their hearers' ears, and few were so 
heartless in their heart of hearts. The world courted him, 
and society honored him because he was rich. 

Mrs. St. Clare comes forward to greet the young lady, 
and at the same time introduces the captain to Hazel. They 


12 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


both acknowledge the introduction; Hazel, yet a child in 
ways of the world, blushed crimson at the admiring looks 
cast upon her by the young captain. Strange — strange 
that she should make the acquaintance of those two men 
in one day, almost in the same hour; the two of all the 
human race who were to exercise so powerful an influence 
over her future life. 

“ That’s a pretty cross. Hazel,” said Mrs. St. Clare, as 
Hazel stood by her when she and Mrs. Melborne were about 
to depart for the ball. 

She alluded to a golden cross, set with seven emeralds, 
which Hazel wore on her neck. It was of light, delicate 
texture, and was suspended from a thin, short gold chain. 

“Is it not pretty?” answered Hazel. “ It was given 
me by my dear mamma just before she died. 1 will take 
it off for you; I only wear it upon great occasions.” 

This, her first appearance at a grand ball, seemed a very 
great occasion to this inexperienced girl. She unclasped 
the chain, and placed it with the cross in the hands of Mrs. 
St. Clare. 

“ Why, I declare! you have nothing on but that cross 
and some rubbishing pearl bracelets,” uttered Mrs. Mel- 
borne to Hazel. “ I did not look at you before. ” 

“ Mamma gave me both; the bracelets are those she 
used frequently to wear. ” 

“ You old-fashioned child! Because your mamma wore 
those bracelets year ago, is that a reason for your doing 
so?” retorted Mrs. Melborne. “ Why did you not put on 
your diamonds?” 

“ I — did — put on my diamonds; but — I — took them off 
again,” stammered Hazel. 

“ What on earth for?” 

“ I did not like to look too fine,” answered Hazel, with 
a laugh and ablush. “ They glittered so I feared it might 
be thought I had put them on to look fine.” 

“Ah! 1 see you mean to set up in that class of people 
who pretend to despise ornaments,” scornfully remarked 
Mrs. Melborne. “ It is the refinement of affectation, Miss 
Barrington.” 

The sneer fell harmlessly on Hazel’s ear. She only be- 
lieved something had put Mrs. Melborne out of temper. It 
certainly had; and that something, though Hazel little 
suspected it, was the evident admiration Captain St. Clare 


MR. CLlRTOtt OR BARRitfGTOtf. 13 

evinced for her fresh young beauty; it quite absorbed him, 
and rendered him neglectful even of Mrs. Melborne. 

“Here, Hazel, take 3 r our cross,” said Mrs. St. Clare. 
“It is very pretty; prettier on your neck than diamonds 
would be. You don’t want embellishing; never mind 
what Mrs. Melborne says.” 

Captain St. Clare took the cross and chain from her 
hand to pass it to Hazel. Whether he was awkward, or 
whether her hands were full, for she held her gloves, her 
handkerchief, and had just taken up her mantle, certain it 
is that it fell, and the gentleman in his too quick efforts to 
regain it managed to set his foot upon it, and the cross -was 
broken in two. 

“ There! Now whose fault was that?” cried Mrs. St. 
Clare. 

Hazel did not answer; her heart was full. She took the 
broken cross, and the tears dropped from her eyes; she 
could not help it. 

“ Why! you are not crying over a stupid bauble of a 
cross!” uttered Mrs. Melborne, interrupting Captain St. 
Clare’s expression of regret at his awkwardness. 

“ You can have it mended, dear,” interposed Mrs. St. 
Clare. 

Hazel chased away the tears, and turned to Captain St. 
Clare with a cheerful look. 

“ Pray do not blame yourself,” she good-naturedly said; 
“ the fault was as much mine as it was yours; and, as your 
aunt says, I can get it mended.” 

She disengaged the upper part of the cross from the 
chain as she spoke, and clasped the latter around her 
throat. 

“You will not go with that thin string of gold on, and 
nothing else?” uttered Mrs. Melborne. 

“ Why not?” ventured Hazel. “ If people say any- 
thing, I can tell them that an accident happened to the 
cross. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Melborne burst into a laugh of mocking ridicule. 

“ If people say anything!” she repeated, in a tone ac- 
cording with the laugh. # They are not likely to say any- 
thing, but they will deem Mr. William Barrington’s 
daughter unfortunately short of jewelry.” 

Hazel smiled, and shook her bead. 

“ They saw my diamonds at the grand reception.” 


14 


tali. CLIFTOta OF BAFFltaGTOta. 


‘ ‘ If you had done such an awkward thing for me, Red- 
mond St. Clare/' burst forth his aunt, “ my doors should 
have been closed against you for a month. There, if you 
young people are to go it is time to start. Dancing to 
begin an evening at ten o'clock at night! In my time we 
used to go at seven; but its the custom now to turn night 
into day." 

“ When George the Third dined at one o'clock upon 
boiled mutton and turnips!" put in the graceless captain, 
who certainly held his aunt in no great reverence. 

He turned to Hazel as he spoke, to hand her down-stairs. 
Thus she was conducted to her carriage a second time that 
night by a stranger. Mrs. Melborne got down by herself, 
as she best could, and her temper was not improved by the 
process. 

“ Good-night," she said to the captain. 

“ 1 shall not say good-night; you will find me there al- 
most as soon as you." 

“You told me you were not coming. Some bachelors' 
party in the way." 

“ Yes, but I have changed my mind. Farewell for the 
present. Miss Barrington. " 

“ What an object you will look with nothing on your 
neck but a school-girl's chain!" began Mrs. Melborne, re- 
turning to the grievance as the carriage drove on. 

“ Oh! Mrs. Melborne, what does it signify? I can only 
think of my broken cross. I am sure it must be an evil 
omen." 

“ An evil what?" 

“ An evil omen. Mamma gave me that cross when she 
was dying; she told me to let it be to me as a talisman; al- 
ways to keep it safely, and when I was in any distress, or 
in need of counsel, to look at it and strive to recall what 
her advice would be, and to act accordingly. And now it 
is broken — broken!" 

A glaring electric light flashed into the carriage, right 
into the face of Hazel. 

“ I declare," uttered Mrs! Melborne, “ you are crying 
again! I tell you what it is, Hazel, I am not going to 
chaperon red eyes to the ball; so, if you can't put a stop to 
this, I shall order the carriage home and go on alone." 

Hazel meekly dried her eyes, sighing deeply as she did so. 


Uk. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 15 

“ I can have the pieces joined, 1 dare say; but it will 
never be the same cross to me again.” 

“ What have you done with the pieces?” irascibly asked 
Mrs. Melborne. 

“ I folded them in a thin paper Mrs. St. Clare gave me, 
and put it inside my dress. Here it is,” touching the body. 
“ 1 haven't a pocket.” 

Mrs. Melborne gave vent to a groan. She never had 
been a girl herself — she had been a woman at ten, and she 
complimented Hazel upon being little better than an im- 
becile. 

“ Put it inside your dress,” she uttered, in a torrent of 
scorn. 4 ‘ And you eighteen years of age! You are a baby 
idiot,” was the inward comment of Mrs. Melborne. 

In a few minutes Hazel forgot her grievance.. The brilliant 
ball-room was to her as an enchanting scene of dreamland, 
for her heart was in its spring-tide of early freshness, and 
the satiety of experience had not come. How could she 
remember trouble, even the broken cross, as she bent to 
the homage offered her, and drank in the honeyed words 
poured forth into her ear. 

“Halloo!” cried a Yale student (with a large fortune 
in prospective) who was screwing himself against the wall, 
not to be in the way of the waltzers, “ I thought you had 
given up coming to these places?” 

“ So I had,” replied the dandy. “But, I am on the 
lookout, so am forced into them again. 1 think a ball- 
room the greatest bore in life. ” 

“ On the lookout for what?” 

“ For a wife. My governor has stopped supplies, and has 
vowed by his beard not to advance another dollar or pay a 
debt till I reform. As a preliminary step toward it, he 
insists upon a wife, and 1 am trying to choose one, for I am 
deeper in debt than you imagine.” 

“ Take the new beauty, then. ” 

“ Who is she?” 

“ Miss Hazel Barrington.” 

“Much obliged for the suggestion,” replied the dude. . 
“But one likes a respectable father-in-law, and Mr. Will-* 
iam Barrington is going to smash. He and I are too 
much in the same line, and might clash in the long run.” 

“ One can’t have everything; the girl’s beauty is beyond 
the common. I saw that rake St. Clare make up to her. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

He fancies he can carry all before him where ladies are con- 
cerned.” 

“ So he often does,” was his quiet reply. 

“ I hate the fellow! He thinks so much of himself, and 
is as heartless as an owl. What was that hushed-up busi- 
ness about Miss Maynard? Who’s to know? St. Clare 
slipped out of the escapade like an eel, and the woman pro- 
tested that she was more sinned against than sinning. 
Three fourths of the world believed her. ” 

“ And she went abroad and died, and St. Clare — Here 
he comes, and Miss Barrington with him. ” 

They were approaching at that moment. Captain St. Clare 
and Hazel Barrington. He was expressing his regret at 
the accident of the cross for the tenth time that night. 

“ I feel that it can never be atoned for,” whispered he; 
“ that the heartfelt homage of my whole life would not be 
sufficient compensation.” 

He spoke in a tone of thrilling gentleness, gratifying to 
the ear but dangerous to the heart. 

Hazel glanced up and caught his eyes gazing upon her 
with the deepest tenderness — a language hers had never yet 
encountered. A vivid blush again rose to her cheek, her 
eyelids fell, and her timid words died away in silence. 

“ Take care — take care, young lady,” murmured the 
student under his breath, as they passed him; “ that man 
is as false as he is fair. ” 

“ 1 think he is a rascal,” remarked the student’s com- 
panion. 

“ 1 know he is; 1 know a thing or two about him. He 
would ruin her heart for the renown of the exploit, because 
she’s a beauty, and then fling it away broken. He has 
none to give in return for the gift. ” 

“Just as much as my new race-horse has,” concluded 
the young man. 

“ She is very beautiful.” 


CHAPTER III. 

Barrington was a very pretty town, and of some im- 
portance. It had derived its name from the immense Bar- 
rington estate, which is situated in the eastern part of the 
town. Passing out of the town toward the east, you come 


II K. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


17 


upon several detached houses, in the vicinity of which stood 
the Church of St. Paul, which was more aristocratic in the 
matter of its congregation than the other churches of West 
Barrington. For about a mile these houses were scattered, 
the church being situated at their commencement, close to 
the busy part of the place; and about a mile further on you 
came upon the beautiful estate which was called the Bar- 
rington estate. Between the houses mentioned and the Bar- 
rington estate the mile of road was solitary, being much 
overshadowed with trees. 

One house stood there, and that was three quarters of a 
mile before you came to the Barrington estate; it was on the 
left side. A flat lawn extended beM-e it, and it stood some 
little distance back from the road, and close to the payings, 
which divided it from the road, was a grove of elm-trees 
some yards in depth. The lawn was divided by a narrow 
middle gravel path, to which you gained access from the 
road by a narrow gate, and which led to the rustic portico 
of the house. You entered a large flagged hall, with a re- 
ception-room on either hand, and this place was called The 
Elms, and was the property of Judge Osborne. 

The room to the left as you went in was the general sit- 
ting-room; the other was very much boxed up in lavender 
and brown holland, to be opened on state occasions. Mrs. 
Osborne had borne the judge three children, two daughters 
and one son. Mary was the elder of the girls, and had 
married young. Lulu was now nineteen, and Thomas, the 
oldest — but we will come to him hereafter. 

In the sitting-room, on a chilly evening early in May, a 
few days subsequent to that which had witnessed the visit 
of Mr. Clifton to Mr. Barrington, sat Mrs. Osborne, a pale 
delicate woman, buried in shawls and cushions; but the day 
had been warm. At the window sat a pretty girl, very 
fair, with blue eyes, light hair, a bright complexion, and 
small aquiline features. She was listlessly turning over the 
leaves of a book. 

“ Lulu, I am sure it must be dinner time.” 

“ The time seems to move slowly with you, mamma. It 
is scarcely a quarter of an hour since I told you it was ten 
minutes past six.” 

“Iam so tired,” murmured the poor invalid. “ Do go 
and look at the clock again. Lulu.” 

Lulu Osborne rose with a gesture of impatience not sup- 


18 


MU. CLIFTON OF BAMtlNGTON. 


pressed, opened the door, and glanced at the large clock in 
the hall. 

“ It wants a quarter to seven, mamma. I wish you 
would put your watch on of a day; four times you have 
asked me to look at the clock in the last hour.” 

It might occur to the reader that a lady in her own 
house might surely order dinner although the customary 
hour had not struck. Not so Mrs. Osborne. Since her 
husband had first brought her home to that house, twenty- 
four years ago, she had never dared to express a will in it; 
scarcely, on her own responsibility, to give an order. J udge 
Osborne was stern, imperative, obstinate, and self-conceit- 
ed; she, timid, gentle, and submissive. She had loved him 
with all her heart, and her life had been one long yielding 
of her will to his; in fact, she had no will — his was all in 
all. Far was she from feeling the servitude a yoke — some 
natures do not; and, to do Mr. Osborne justice, his power- 
ful will in bearing down all before it was a fault of 
kindness; he never meant to be unkind to his wife. Of 
his three children Lulu alone had inherited his will. 

“ Lulu,” began Mrs. Osborne again, when she thought 
another quarter of an hour had elapsed. 

“ Well, mamma?” 

“ Ring and tell them to be ready, so that when seven 
strikes there may be no delay . 9 9 

“ Goodness, mamma! you know they do always have it 
ready, and there’s no such hurry, for papa may not be 
home.” 

But she rose and rang the bell with a petulant motion, 
and when the servant answered it, told him to have dinner 
served at once. 

“If you knew, dear, how faint and feeble 1 feel you 
would have more patience with me. ” 

Lulu closed her book with a listless air, and turned to 
the window. She seemed tired, not with fatigue, but with 
what the French express by the word ennui. 

“ Here comes papa!” she presently said. 

“ Oh, 1 am so glad!” cried poor Mrs. Osborne. “ Per- 
haps he will not mind having dinner at once.” 

The judge came in — a middle-sized man with pompous 
features, a pompous walk. In his aquiline nose, com- 
pressed lips, and pointed chin might be traced a resem- 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 19 

blance to his daughter, though he could never have been 
half so good-looking as pretty Lulu. 

“ Thomas,” spoke Mrs. Osborne, from between her 
shawls, the instant he opened the door. 

“ Well?” 

“ Would you please let me have dinner now? Would 
you very much mind having it a little earlier this evening ? 
I am so weak, and I do want my soup.” 

44 Oh, it's near seven; you won't have to wait long.” 

With this exceedingly gracious answer to an invalid’s re- 
quest Mr. Osborne quitted the room again and banged the 
door. He had not spoken unkindly or roughly — simply 
with indifference. But ere Mrs. Osborne's meek sigh of 
disappointment was over the door was reopened and his 
head thrust in again. 

44 1 don't mind if I do have dinner now. It will be a 
fine moonlight night, and I am going with Harvy as far as 
Woodbridge's, so order dinner. Lulu.” 

The dinner was over and the judge had departed for Mr. 
Woodbridge's, Lawyer Harvy calling for him at the gate. 
Mr. Wood bridge owned a great deal of farming land, and 
was also Mr. Barrington's agent; he lived some distance be- 
yond the Barrington estate. 

44 I am so cold. Lulu,” shivered Mrs. Osborne, as she 
watched the judge down the gravel path. 44 1 wonder if 
your papa would say it was foolish of me if I told them to 
light a fire?” 

44 Have it lighted if you like,” responded Lulu, ringing 
the bell. 44 Papa won't know anything about it one way 
or the other, for he won't be home till very late. James, 
mamma is cold and would like a fire lighted.” 

44 Plenty of sticks, James, that it may burn up quickly,” 
said Mrs. Osborne, in a pleading voice, as if the wood were 
James's and not hers. 

Mrs. Osborne got her fire, and she drew her chair in 
front and put her feet on the fender to catch its warmth; 
Lulu, listless still, went into the hall, took a woolen shawl 
from a stand there, and threw it over her shoulders and 
went out. She walked down the straight, formal path, and 
stood at the iron gate, looking over it into the public road 
— not very public in that spot and at that hour, but as lonely 
as one could wish. 

The night was calm and pleasant, though somewhat 


20 


MR. CLIFTON OF FARRINGTON. 


chilly for the beginning of May, and the moon was getting 
high in the sky. 

“ When will he come?” she murmured, as she leaned' 
her head upon the gate. “ Oh, what would life be with- 
out him? How miserable these few days have been! I 
wonder what took him there? 1 wonder what is detaining 
him! Fannie said he was only gone for a day.” 

The faint echo of footsteps in the distance stole upon her 
ear, and Lulu drew a little back and hid herself under the 
shelter of the trees, not choosing to be seen by any stray 
passer-by. But as , they drew near a sudden change came 
over her, her eyes lighted up, her cheeks were dyed with 
crimson, and her veins tingled with excess of rapture — for 
she knew those footsteps, and loved them only too well. 

Cautiously peeping over the gate again, she looked down 
the road. A tall form, whose very height and strength 
bore a grace of which its owner was unconscious, was ad- 
vancing rapidly toward her from the direction of the rail- 
road station. Again she shrunk away; true love is ever 
timid, and whatever may have been Lulu Osborne’s other 
qualities, her love at least was true and deep. But, instead 
of the gate opening with the firm, quick motion peculiar to 
the hand which guided it, the footsteps seemed to pass 
and not to have turned at all toward it. 

Lulu’s heart sunk, and she stole to the gate again and 
looked out with a yearning look. 

Yes, sure enough, he was striding on, not thinking of 
her, not coming to her, and she, in the disappointment and 
impulse of the moment, called to him: 

“ Harold!” 

Mr. Clifton — it was no other — turned on his heel, and 
approached the gate. 

“ Is it you, Lulu? Watching for the moon? How are 
you?” 

“ How are you?” she returned, holding the gate open 
for him to enter, as he shook hands, and striving to calm 
down her agitation. “ When did you return?” 

“ Only now, by the eight o’clock train, which was be- 
hind time, having delayed so long - at the stations. They 
little thought they had me on it. 1 have not been home 
yet.” 

“ No? What will Fannie say?” 

“ 1 went into the office for five minutes. But 1 have a 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 21 

little business with Mr. Woodbridge, and am going there 
at once. Thank you, I can not come in now; I intend to 
do so on my return.” 

“ Papa has gone up to Mr. Woodbridge’s.” 

“Mr. Osborne! Has he?” 

“ He and Lawyer Harvy,” continued Lulu. “ They 
have gone to have a game of billiards. And if you wait 
there with papa it will be too late to come in, for he is 
sure not to come home before eleven or twelve o'clock. ” 

Mr. Clifton bent his head in deliberation. 

“ Then I think it is of little use my going on,” said he, 
“ for my business with Mr. Woodbridge is private. I 
must defer it until to-morrow.” 

He took the gate out of her hand and closed it, and 
placed her hand within his arm to walk with her to the 
house. It was done in a matter-of-fact sort of way; noth- 
ing of romance or sentiment hallowed it, but Lulu Osborne 
felt that she was in Eden. 

“ And how have you all been. Lulu, these few days?” 

“ Oh, very well. What made you start off so suddenly? 
You never said you were going or came to say good-bye.” 

“ You have just expressed it. Lulu — suddenly. A mat- 
ter of business suddenly arose, and I suddenly went upon 
it.” 

“ Fannie said you were only gone for a day.” 

“ Did she? When in New York I found so many things 
to do. Is your mother well?” 

“Just the same; I think mamma’s ailments are fancies, 
half of them; if she would rouse herself she would be bet- 
ter. What is in that parcel?” 

“You are not to inquire. Miss Lulu. It does not con- 
cern you. It only concerns Mrs. Osborne.” 

“Is it something you have brought for mamma, 
Harold?” 

“ Of course. A countryman’s visit to New York entails 
buying presents for his friends; at least, it used to be so 
in the old-fashioned days.” 

“ When people made their wills before starting, and were 
a fortnight doing the journey in a wagon,” laughed Lulu. 
“ Grandpapa used to tell us tales of that when we were 
children. But is it really something for mamma?” 

“ Don’t I tell you so? 1 have brought something for 

you.” 


22 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“ Oh! what is it?" she uttered, her color rising, and 
wondering whether he was in jest or earnest. 

“ There's an impatient young lady! What is it? Wait 
a moment and you shall see what it is." 

He put the parcel or roll he was carrying upon a garden 
chair, and proceeded to search his pockets. Every pocket 
was visited apparently in vain. 

“ Lulu, I think it is gone. 1 must have lost it some- 
where." 

Her heart beat as she stood there silently looking up at 
him in the moonlight. Was it lost? What had it been? 

But, upon a second search, he came upon something in 
his coat pocket. 

“ Here it is, I believe. What brought it there?" 

He opened a small box, and taking out a long gold chain, 
threw it around her neck. 

Her cheeks' crimson went and came; her heart beat more 
rapidly. She could not speak a word of thanks; and Mr. 
Clifton took up the roll and walked on into the presence 
of Mrs. Osborne. 

Lulu followed in a few minutes. Her mother was stand- 
ing up, watching with pleased expectation the movements 
of Mr. Clifton. 

“Now don't laugh at me," quoth he, untying the string 
of the parcel. “ It is not a roll of velvet for a dress or a 
new cloak. But it is— an air-cushion." 

It was what poor Mrs. Osborne, so worn with sitting and 
lying, had often longed for. She had heard such a luxury 
was to be bought in New York but never remembered to 
have seen one. She took it almost with a greedy hand, 
casting a grateful look at Mr. Clifton. 

“How am I to thank you for it?" she murmured 
through her tears. 

“ If you thank me at all I will never bring you any- 
thing again!" cried he, gayly. “ 1 have been telling Lulu 
that a visit to the city entails bringing gifts for friends. 
Do you see how fine she looks with her chain?" 

Lulu hastily took off the chain for her mother to look at. 

“ What a beauty!" said Mrs. Osborne. “ Harold, you 
are too good, too generous! This must have cost a great 
deal; this is beyond a trifle." 

“ Nonsense!" laughed Mr. Clifton. “I’ll tell you both 
how I happened to buy it. I went into a jeweler's about 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


23 


my watch, which has taken to lose lately in a most uncere- 
monious fashion, and there I saw a whole display of chains 
hanging up; some ponderous enough for a sheriff, some 
elegant and light enough for Lulu. I dislike to see a thick 
chain on a lady's neck. They put me in mind of the chain 
Lulu lost the day we went picnicking in Maplewood Grove; 
she said it was my fault, because 1 insisted upon her going 
to the picnic." 

4 4 But 1 was only joking when I said so. Of course it 
would h^ve happened had you not been with me; the links 
were always snapping." 

44 Well, these chains in the jeweler's put me in mind of 
Lulu's misfortune, and I chose one. Then the clerk 
brought forth some lockets, and enlarged upon their con- 
venience for holding deceased relatives' hair. 1 told him 
he might do me up one, so here it is. I thought it might 
hold that piece of hair you prize. Lulu," he concluded, 
dropping his voice. 

44 What piece?" asked Mrs. Osborne. 

Mr. Clifton glanced around the room, as if fearful the 
very walls might hear his whisper. 

44 Thomas's. Lulu showed it to me one day when she 
was looking over her desk, and said it was a curl taken off 
in that illness." 

Mrs. Osborne sunk back in her chair, and hid her face 
in her hands, shivering visibly. The words evidently awoke 
some poignant source of deep sorrow. 

44 Oh, my boy! my boy!" she wailed — 44 my boy! my un- 
happy boy! Mr. Osborne wonders at my ill health, Harold; 
Lulu ridicules it; but there lies the source of all my misery, 
mental and bodily. Oh, Thomas! Thomas!" 

There was a distressing pause, for the topic admitted of 
neither hope nor consolation. 

44 Put your chain on again. Lulu," Mr. Clifton said, 
after awhile, 44 and I wish you health to wear it out. 
Health and reformation, young lady." 

Lulu smiled, and glanced at him with her pretty blue 
eyes so full of love. 

44 Well, I shall wish you good-evening, and go to Fannie; 
for if she knows I am back all this while I shall be lect- 
ured. " 

He shook hands with them both. Lulu, however, ac- 


24 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


companied him to the front door and stepped outside with 
him. 

“ You will catch cold, Lulu. You have left your wrap 
in-doors.” 

“ Oh, no, I shall not. How very soon you are leaving! 
You have scarcely stayed ten minutes.” 

“ But you forget. 1 have not been home.” 

“You were on your road to Mr. Woodbridge’s, and 
would not have been home for an hour or two in that case,” 
said Lulu, in a tone that savored of resentment. 

“ That was different; that was upon business. But, 
Lulu, I think your mother looks unusually ill.” 

“ You know how she suffers a little thing to upset her, 
and last night she had what she calls one of her dreams,” 
answered Lulu. “ She says that it was a warning that 
something bad is going to happen, and she has been in the 
most unhappy, feverish state possible all day. Papa has 
been quite angry over her being so weak and nervous, de- 
claring that she ought to rouse herself out of her 4 nerves/ 
Of course, we dare not tell him about the dream.” 

“ It related to — the — ” 

Mr. Clifton stopped, and Lulu glanced round with a 
shudder and drew closer to him as she whispered: 

“ Yes, to the murder. You know mamma has always 
declared that Hood had something to do with it; she says 
her dreams would have convinced her of it, if nothing else 
did, and she dreamed she saw him with — with — you know.” 

“ Truesdell?” whispered Mr. Clifton. 

“ With Truesdell,” assented Lulu, with a shiver. “ He 
was standing over him, as he lay on the floor, just as he 
did lay on it. And that wretched Kate was standing at 
the end of the kitchen looking on.” 

“ But Mrs. Osborne ought not to suffer dreams to disturb 
her peace by day,” remonstrated Mr. Clifton. “ It is not 
to be wondered that she dreams of the murder, because she 
is always dwelling upon it; but she should strive and throw 
the feeling off her with the night.” 

44 You know what mamma is. Of course she ought to 
do so, but she does not. Papa wonders what makes her 
get so ill and trembling of a morning; and mamma has to 
make all sorts of evasions and excuses, for not a hint, as 
you are aware, must be breathed about the murder.” 

Mr. Clifton gravely nodded. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


25 


44 Mamina does so harp upon — . And 1 know this 
dream arose from nothing in the world but because she 
saw him pass the gate yesterday. Not that she thinks it 
was he who did it — unfortunately there is no room for that — 
but she will persist that he had a hand in it some way, and 
he haunts her dreams.” 

Mr. Clifton walked on in silence; indeed, there was no 
reply that he could make. A cloud had fallen upon the 
house of Mr. Osborne, and it was an unhappy subject. 
Lulu continued: 

4 4 But for mamma to have taken it in her head that some 
evil is going to happen because she has had this dream, 
and to make herself miserable over it, is so absurd that I 
have felt quite cross with her all day. Such nonsense, you 
know, Harold, to believe that dreams give signs of what is 
going to happen — so far behind these enlightened days!” 

“ Your mamma’s trouble is great, Lulu, and she is not 
strong.” 

“ 1 think all our troubles have been great since that dark 
evening,” responded Lulu. 

They had reached the gate, and Mr. Clifton was about to 
pass out of it, when Lulu laid her hand on his arm to detain 
him, and said, in a timid voice: 

“ Harold!” 

“ What is it?” 

“ I have not said a word of thanks to you for this,” she 
said, touching the chain and locket; “ my tongue seemed 
tied; do not deem me ungrateful.” 

“You foolish girl! it is not worth them. There, now I 
am paid. Good-night, Lulu.” 

He bent down and kissed her cheek, swung through the 
gate laughing, and strode away. 

“ Don’t say I never gave you anything.” He turned his 
head round to say good-night. 

All her veins were tingling, all her pulses beating; her 
head was throbbing with its sense of bliss. He had never 
kissed her, that she could remember, since she was a child. 
And when she returned in-doors her spirits were so extrav- 
agantly high that Mrs. Osborne wondered. 

Lulu sat down at the window; she was living the last half 
hour over again. “ Don’t say I never gave you anything,” 
she murmured. Did he allude to the chain or the kiss? 

“Oh! Harold, why don’t you say that you love me?” 


26 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

Mr. Clifton had been all his life on intimate terms with 
the Osborne family. His father’s first wife^ — for the late 
Lawyer Clifton had been twice married — had been a cousin 
of Judge Osborne, and this had caused them to be much 
together. Harold, the child of the second Mrs. Clifton, 
had alternately teased and petted Mary and Lulu Osborne 
boy fashion. Sometimes he quarreled with the pretty lit- 
tle girls, sometimes he caressed them as he would have 
done had they been his sisters; and he made no scruple of 
declaring publicly to the girls that Mary was his favorite. 
A gentle, yielding girl she was — like her mother; whereas 
Lulu displayed her own will, and it sometimes clashed with 
young Harold’s. 

The clock struck ten. Mrs. Osborne took her customary 
brandy and water, a small tumbler three parts full. With- 
out it she believed she could never get to sleep; it deadened 
unhappy thoughts, she said. Lulu, after making it, had 
turned again to the window; but she did not resume her 
seat. She stood right in front of it, her forehead bent for- 
ward against its pane. The lamp, casting a bright light, 
was behind her, so that her figure might be distinctly ob- 
servable from the lawn, had any one been there to look 
upon it. 

She stood there in the midst of dreamland, giving way 
to all its enchanting and delusive fascinations. She saw 
herself, in anticipation, the wife of Mr. Clifton, the envied, 
thrice-envied of all Barrington; for, as he was the 
dearest on earth to her heart, so was he the greatest match 
in the neighborhood around. Not a mother but what cov- 
eted him for her child, not a daughter but would have said 
“ Yes, and thank you,” to an offer from the attractive 
Harold Clifton. 

“ I never was Sure quite of it till to-night,” murmured 
Lulu, caressing the locket, and holding it to her cheek. 
“ 1 always thought he meant something, or he might mean 
nothing; but to give me this — to kiss me — oh, Harold!” 

A pause. Lulu’s eyes fixed upon the moonlight. 

“ If he would but say he loved me; if he would but save 
the suspense of my aching heart! But it must come— I 
know it will— and if that cantankerous toad of a Fannie — ” 

Lulu Osborne stopped. What was that at the far end of 
the lawn, just in advance of the shade of the thick trees? 
Their leaves were not causing the movement, for it was a 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTON. 27 

still night; it had been there some minutes; it was evi- 
dently a human form. 

What was it? Surely it was making signs to her, or else 
it looked as though it was. That was certainly its arm 
moving, and now it advanced a pace nearer, and raised 
something which it wore on its head— a battered hat with 
a broad brim encircled with a wisp of straw. 

Lulu Osborne’s heart leaped, and her face became deathly 
white in the moonlight. Her first thought was to alarm 
the servants; her second to be still; for she remembered 
the fear and mystery that attached to the house. She went 
into the hall, shutting her mamma in the parlor, and stood 
in the shade of the portico, gazing still. But the figure 
evidently iollo wed her movements withi ts sight, and the hat 
was again taken off, and waved violently. 

Lulu Osborne turned sick with utter terror. She must 
fathom it; she must see who or what it was. For the serv- 
ants she dared not call, and those movements were imper- 
ative, and must not be disregarded. But she possessed 
more innate courage than falls to the lot of some young 
ladies. 

4 4 Mamma,” she said, returning to the parlor and catch- 
ing up her shawl, while striving to speak without emotion, 
44 1 will just walk down the path and see if papa is com- 
ing.” 

Mrs. Osborne did not reply. She was musing upon other 
things in that quiescent, happy mood which a small por- 
tion of spirits will impart to one weak in body; and Lulu 
softly closed the door, and stole out again to the portico. 

She stood a moment to rally her courage; and again the 
hat was waved impatiently. Lulu Osborne commenced her 
walk toward it in dread unutterable, an undefined sense of 
evil filling her sinking heart, mingling with which came, 
with a rush of terror, a fear of that other undefinable evil 
— the evil Mrs. Osborne had declared was foreboded by her 
dream. 


CHAPTER IV. 

Cold and still looked the old house in the moonbeams. 
Never was the moon brighter; it lighted the far-stretching 
garden, it shone upon the portico and upon the one who 
appeared in it. Stealing to the portico from the house 


28 


SLIi. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


came Lula Osborne, her eyes, strained in dread affright, on 
the grove of trees at the foot of the garden. What was it 
that had slipped out of that grove of trees and mysteriously 
beckoned, to her as she stood at the window, turning her 
heart to sickness as she gazed? Was it a human being? 
One to bring more evil to the house where so much evil 
had already fallen? Was it a supernatural visitant, or was 
it but a delusion of her own eyesight? Not the latter, 
certainly, for the figure was now emerging again, motion- 
ing to her. as before; and with a white face and shaking 
limbs Lulu clutched her shawl around her, and went down 
the path into the moonlight. The beckoning form retreated 
within the dark recess as she neared it, and Lulu halted. 

“ Who and what are you?” she asked, under her breath. 
“ What do you want?” 

44 Lulu,” was the whispered answer, 44 don’t you recog- 
nize me?” 

Too surely she did — the voice, at any rate — and a cry 
escaped her, telling more of sorrow than joy, though be- 
traying both. She penetrated the trees, and burst into 
tears as one in the dress of a farm laborer caught her in 
his arms. In spite of his disguise she knew -him for her 
brother. 

44 Oh, Thomas! where have you come from? What 
brings you here?” 

44 JJid you know me, Lulu?” was the rejoinder. 

44 How was it likely — in this disguise? A thought crossed 
my mind that it might be some one from you, and even 
that made me sick with terror. How could’ you run such 
a risk as to come here?” she added, wringing her hands. 
44 If you are discovered it is certain death; death— -upon — 
you know! Upon the gallows. Should mamma see you it 
will kill her outright.” 

44 1 can’t live on as 1 have been living,” he answered, 
gloomily. 44 1 have been working in New York ever 
since. ” 

4 ‘ In New York?” interrupted Lulu. 

44 In New York; and have never stirred out of it. But 
it was hard work for me, and now 1 have an opportunity of 
doing better, if I can get a little money. Perhaps my 
mother can let me have it; it is what I have come to ask 
for.” 

44 Ilovy are you working? What at?” 


MU. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 29 

“ In a stable.” 

“ A stable!” she uttered, in a deeply shocked tone. 

“ Did you expect it would be as a merchant, or a banker, 
or that 1 was a gentleman at large living on my fortune?” 
retorted Thomas Osborne, in a tone of chafed anguish 
painful to hear. “ I get three dollars a week, and that 
has to find me^every thing. I sleep in the loft of the stable.” 

“Poor Thomas, poor Thomas!” she wailed, caressing 
his hand and weeping over it. “ Oh, what a miserable 
night’s work that was! Our only comfort is, Thomas, that 
you must have committed the deed in madness.” 

“ I did not commit it at all,” he replied. 

“ What!” she exclaimed. 

“ Lulu, I swear that I am innocent; I swear that 1 was 
not present when the man was murdered; I swear that, 
from my own positive knowledge, my eyesight, I know no 
more who did it than you. The guessing at it is enough 
for me, and my guess is as sure and true a one as that the 
moon is in the heavens.” 

Lulu shivered as she drew close to him. It was a shiv- 
ering subject. 

“ You surely do not mean to throw the guilt on Hood?” 

“Hood!” slightly returned Thomas. “He had noth- 
ing to do with it. He was after other things that night, 
thief though he is!” 

“ Hood is no thief, Tom.” 

“ Is he not?” returned Tom, significantly. 

“ The truth as to what he is may come out some time. Not 
that I wish it to come out; the man has done no harm to 
me, and he may go on stealing with impunity till dooms- 
day, for all I care. He and Clarke — ” 

“ Tom,” interrupted his sister, in a hushed voice, 
“ mamma entertains one fixed idea which she can not put 
from her. She is certain that Hood had something to do 
with the murder.” 

“ Then she is wrong. AVhy should she think so?” 

“ How the conviction arose at first 1 can not tell you; I 
do not think she knows herself. But you remember how 
weak and fanciful she is, and since that dreadful night she 
is always having what she calls dreams — meaning that she 
dreams of the murder. In all these dreams Hood is prom- 
inent, and she says she feels an absolute certainty that he 
was in some way or other mixed up in it. ” 


30 


It. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON. 


“ Lulu, he was no more mixed up in it than you.” 

“ And you say you were not?” 

“ 1 was not even at the cottage at the time. I swear it to 
you. The man who did the deed was Tilford. ” 

“ Tilford!” echoed Lulu, lifting her head. “Who is 
Tilford?” 

“ I don’t know; 1 wish I did. I wish I could unearth 
him. He was a friend of Kate.” 

Lulu threw back her head with a haughty gesture. 

“Tom!” 

“ What?” 

“You forget yourself when you mention that name to 
me. ” 

“ Well,” returned Tom, “ it was not to discuss these 
things that I put myself into jeopardy, and to assert my 
innocence can do no good; it can not set aside the coroner’s 
verdict of ‘ willful murder against Thomas Osborne, 
junior.’ Is my father as bitter against me as ever?” 

‘ ‘ Quite. He never mentions your name, or suffers it to 
be mentioned. He gave orders to the servants that it was 
never to be spoken in the house again. Papa took an oath 
that — Did you hear of it?” 

“ What oath? He takes many.” 

“ This was a solemn one, Tom. After the verdict he 
took an oath that if he could find you he would deliver you 
up to justice, and that he would do it though you might 
not turn up for ten years to come. You know his dispo- 
sition, Tom, and therefore may be sure he will keep it. 
Indeed, it is most dangerous for you to be here.” 

“ 1 know that he never treated me as he ought,” said 
Tom, bitterly. “ If my health was delicate, causing my 
poor mother to indulge me, ought that to have been a reason 
for his ridiculing me on every possible occasion, public and 
private? Had my home been made happier 1 should not 
have sought the society 1 did elsewhere. Lulu, I must be 
allowed an interview with my mother.” 

Lulu reflected before she spoke. 

“ I do not see how it can be managed.” 

“ Why can’t she come out to me as you have done? Is 
she up or in bed?” 

“ It is impossible to think of it to-night,” returned Lul u, 
in an alarmed tone. “ Papa may be in at any moment; he 
is spending the evening at Woodbridge’s.” 


MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON. 3l 

“It is hard to have been separated from her eighteen 
months and to go back without seeing her,” returned 
Tom. “ And about the money? It is five hundred dollars 
that I want.” 

“ You must be here again to-morrow night, Tom. The 
money, no doubt, can be yours, but I am not so sure about 
your seeing mamma. I am terrified for your safety. But, 
if it is as you say, that you are innocent, ” she added, after 
a pause, 44 could it not be proved?” 

“ Who is to prove it? The evidence is strong against 
me; and Tilford, did I mention him, would be as a myth 
to other people; nobody knew anything about him.” 

44 Is he a myth?” said Lulu, in a low tone. 

“ Are you and I myths?” retorted Tom. 44 Lu, even 
you doubt me?” 

44 Tom,” she suddenly exclaimed, 44 why not tell the 
whole circumstance to Harold Clifton? If any one can 
help you or take measures to establish your innocence, he 
can. And you know that he is true as steel.” 

44 There is no other man living who should be trusted 
with the secret that 1 am here, except Harold Clifton. 
Where is it supposed that I am, Lulu?” 

44 Some think that you are dead; some that you are in 
Cauada. The very uncertainty has nearly killed mamma.” 

44 1 dodged my way to Hew York, and there I have 
been.” 

44 Working in a stable?” 

44 1 could do no better. I was not brought up to do any- 
thing, and I did understand horses. Besides, a man that 
the detectives are looking for could be more safe in ob- 
scurity, considering that he was a gentleman, than — ” 

Lulu turned suddenly, and placed her hand upon her 
brother's mouth. 

44 Be silent, for your life!” she whispered. 44 Here’s 
papa.” 

Voices were heard approaching the gate — those of Judge 
Osborne and Lawyer Harvy. The latter walked on, the 
former came in. The brother aud sister cowered together, 
scarcely daring to breathe; you might have heard Lulu’s 
heart beating. Mr. Osborne closed the gate and walked 
on up the path. 

44 1 must go, Tom,” said Lulu, hastily; 44 1 dare not 


32 ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

stay another minute. Be here again to-morrow night, and 
meanwhile I will see what can be done.” 

She was speeding away, but Tom held her back. 

“You did not seem to believe my assertion of innocence. 
Lulu. We are here alone in the stilhnight. As truly as you 
and 1 must die some time, I told" you the truth. It was 
Tilford murdered Truesdell, and 1 had nothing whatever 
to do with it.” 

Lulu flew from the trees, but Mr. Osborne was already 
in, locking and barring the door. 

“ Let me in, papa!” she called out. 

The judge opened the door again, and, thrusting forth 
his head, gazed at Lulu with amazed eyes. 

“Halloo! what brings you out at this time of night, 
young lady?” 

“ I went down to the gate to look for you, and had 
strolled over to the side-path. Did you not see me?” 

Lulu was truthful by nature and habit, but in such a 
cause how could she avoid dissimulation? 

“You ought to have been in bed an hour ago,” angrily 
responded Mr. Osborne. 


CHAPTER V. 

Mr. Clifton was seated in his own private room in his 
office the morning after his return from the city. His con- 
fidential clerk and manager stood near him. It was Mr. 
Faber, a meek-looking man with a bald head. ‘Perhaps 
he deemed the post of head manager in the office of Clif- 
ton & Moore, with its substantial salary, sufficient for his 
ambition. He was a single man, and occupied handsome 
apartments near by. 

Mr. Faber had a desk in the first small office as you en- 
tered the hall from the street, and there he frequently sat. 
He was sitting there in state this morning, keeping a sharp 
lookout around him, when the door timidly opened, and 
the pretty face of Lulu Osborne appeared at it, rosy with 
blushes. 

“ Can 1 see Mr. Clifton?” 

Mr. Faber rose from his seat and made her his best bow. 
She asked him to step into the hall, and he closed the door. 
Perhaps he felt surprised, for it was not the custom for 
ladies, young and single, to come there after Mr. Clifton. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 33 

44 Presently, Miss Lulu. He is engaged just now. The 
judges are with him.** 

“ The judges! What ever shall I do? Papa must not see 
me. I would not have him see me here for the world. 55 

An ominous sound of talking; the judges were evidently 
coming out of Mr. Clifton's private office. Mr. Faber 
took hold of Lulu, whisked her through the clerks 5 room, 
not daring to take her the other way lest she should en- 
counter them, and shut her in one of the other offices. 

“ What the plague brought papa here at such a time? 55 
thought Lulu, whose face was crimson. 

A few minutes, and Mr. Faber opened the door again. 

44 They are gone now and the coast is clear. Miss Lulu. 55 

44 I don 5 t know what opinion you must form of me, Mr. 
Faber, 55 she whispered; 44 but I will tell you in confidence 
that l am here on some private business for mamma, who 
was not well enough to come herself. It is a little private 
matter that she does not wish papa to know of. 55 

44 Child, 55 answered the manager, 44 a lawyer receives 
visits from many people, and it is not the place of those 
about him to 4 think. 5 55 

He opened the door as he spoke, ushered her into the 
presence of Mr. Clifton, and left her. The latter rose in 
astonishment. 

44 You must regard me as a client, and pardon my in- 
trusion, 55 said Lulu, with a forced laugh, to hide her agi- 
tation. 4 4 1 am here on the part of mamma, and nearly met 
papa here, which terrified me out of my senses. Mr. Faber 
shut me in one of the rooms. 55 

Mr. Clifton motioned to Lulu to seat herself, then re- 
sumed his own seat beside his table. Lulu could not help 
noticing how different his manners were in the office from 
his evening manners when he was 44 off duty. 55 Here he 
was the staid, calm man of business. 

44 1 have a strange thing to tell you, 55 she began, in a 
whisper; 44 but — is it possible that any one can hear us? 55 
She stopped, with a look of dread. 44 It would be— it 
might be — death! 55 

“ It is quite impossible, 55 calmly replied Mr. Clifton. 
44 The doors are double doors. 55 

Nevertheless, she left her' chair and stood close to Mr. 
Clifton, resting her hand upon the table. He rose also. 

44 Thomas is here. 55 

3 


34 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRiNGTON. 


“ Thomas! 55 repeated Mr. Clifton. “ At Barrington? 5 " 

“ He appeared at the house last night in disguise, and 
made signs to me from the grove of trees. You may im- 
agine my alarm. He has been in New York all this while, 
half starving. And, oh! Harold, he says he is innocent. 55 

Mr. Clifton made no reply to this. He probably had no 
faith in the assertion. 

“ Sit down, Lulu, 55 he said, drawing her chair closer. 

Lulu sat down again but her manner was hurried and 
nervous. 

“ Be at ease, 55 said Mr. Clifton; “this room is sacred 
from the intrusion of strangers. What of Thomas? 55 

“ He says he was not in the cottage at the time the mur- 
der was committed, that the person who really did it was a 
man of the name of Tilford. 5 5 # 

“What Tilford? 5 ’ asked Mr. Clifton, suppressing all 
signs of incredulity. 

“I don 5 t know; a friend of Kate, he said. Harold, 
he swore to it in the most solemn manner, and I believe, 
as truly as 1 am now repeating it to you, that he was speak- 
ing the truth. 1 want you to see Tom, if possible; he is 
coming to the same place to-night. If he can tell his own 
tale to you perhaps you may find out a way by which his 
innocence may be made manifest. You are so clever, you 
can do most anything. 55 

Mr. Clifton smiled. 

“ Was this the purport of Tom 5 s visit — to say this? 55 

“ Oh, no! He thinks it is of no use to say it, for nobody 
would believe him against the evidence. He came to ask 
for five hundred dollars; he says he has an opportunity of 
doing better if he can have that sum. Mamma has sent 
me to you; she has not the money by her now, and she 
dare not ask papa for it, as it is for Tom. She bade me 
say that if you will kindly oblige her with the money to-day 
she will arrange with you about the repayment. 55 

“ Do you want it now? 55 asked Mr. Clifton. “ If so, I 
must send to the bank. Mr. Faber never keeps much 
money in the house when I 5 m away. 55 

“ Not until evening. Can you manage to see Tom? 55 

“It is hazardous, 55 mused Mr. Clifton — “for him, I 
mean. Still, if he is to be in the grove to-night, I may as 
well be there also. What disguise is he in? 55 

“ A farm laborer's — the best he could adopt about here 


itft. CLIFTON OF BAUiliK-GTOX. Da 

^ with large black whiskers. He is stopping about three 
miles off, he said, in some obscure hiding-place. And 
now,” continued Lulu, 44 I want you to advise me. Had I 
better inform mamma that Tom is here or not?” 

Mr. Clifton did not understand, and said so. 

“ I declare I am bewildered!” she exclaimed. “ I should 
have premised that I have not yet told mamma it is Tom 
himself who is here, but that he has sent a messenger to 
beg for this money. Would it be advisable to acquaint 
her?” 

44 Why should you not? I think you ought to do so.” 

“ Then 1 will. 1 was fearing the hazards, for she is 
sure to insist upon seeing him. Tom also wishes for an in- 
terview.” 

“ It is only natural. Mrs. Osborne must be thankful to 
hear, so far, that he is safe. ” 

“ I never saw anything like it,” returned Lulu; “ the 
change is akin to magic; she says it has put life into her 
anew. And now for the last thing. How can we secure 
papa’s absence from home to-night? It must be accom- 
plished in some way. You know his temper. Were I or 
mamma to suggest to him to go and seen a friend, or go to 
the club, he would immediately stop at home. Can you 
devise any plan? You see, I appeal to you in all my 
troubles,” she added. 

It may be a question if Mr. Clifton heard the last re- 
mark. He had dropped his eyelids in thought. 

“ Have you told me all?” he asked, presently, lifting 
them. 

44 1 think so.” 

44 Then I will consider it over, and — ” 

44 1 shall not like to come here again,” interrupted Lulu. 
44 It — it might excite suspicion. Some one might see me, 
too, and mention it to papa.” 

44 Well, be walking up the street at three o’clock this 
afternoon, and I will meet you.” 

He escorted Lulu to the door and bade her good-morn- 
ing. When the door had closed she had taken but one step 
from it, when something large loomed down upon her 
like a ship in full sail. 

She must have been the tallest lady in the world— out of 
a caravan— a fine woman in her day, but angular and bony 


UU. CTIPTOK OP BAillUKGTOK’. 

now. Still, in spite of the angles and bones, there was 
majesty in the appearance of Miss Clifton. 

“ Why, what on earth,'” began she, “ have you been 
with Harold for? I was passing an hour ago and saw you 
go into his office. ” 

Lulu Osborne, wishing Miss Clifton anywhere but where 
she could see her, stammered out the excuse she had given 
Mr. Faber. 

“ Your mamma sent you on business? 1 never heard of 
such a thing. Twice have I been to see Harold, and twice 
did Mr. Faber answer that he was engaged and must not 
be interrupted. I shall make old Faber explain his mean- 
ing for observing a mystery over it to me.” 

“There is no mystery,” answered Lulu, feeling quite 
sick lest Miss Clifton should proclaim there was, before the 
clerks or her father. “ Mamma wanted Mr. Clifton’s 
opinion on a little private business, and not feeling well 
enough to come herself, she sent me.” 

Miss Clifton did not believe a word. 

“ What business?” asked she, unceremoniously. 

“ It is nothing that could interest you. A trifling mat- 
ter relating to a little money. It’s nothing, indeed.” 

“ Then if it is nothing, why were you closeted so long 
with Harold?” 

“He was asking the particulars,” replied Lulu, recov- 
ering her equanimity. 

Miss Clifton sniffed, as she invariably did when dissent- 
ing from problems. She was sure there was some mystery 
astir. She turned and walked down the street with Lulu, 
but she was none the «more likely to get anything out of 
her. 

Mr. Clifton returned to his room, deliberated a few mo- 
ments, and then rang his bell. A clerk answered it. 

“ Go back to Hilton’s, and if the judges are there ask Mr. 
Osborne and the other judges if they will please step over 
and see me again.” 

The young man did as he was bid, and came back with 
the noted judges at his heels. They obeyed the summons 
with alacrity, for they believed they had got themselves 
into a judicial scrape and that Mr. Clifton alone could 
get them out of it. 

“ 1 will not ask you to sit down, for it is barely a mo- 
ment I shall detain you. The more I think of putting this 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 37 

man in prison for life, the less I like it; and I have been 
considering that you had better all come and take dinner 
with me this evening, and when smoking our after-dinner 
cigars we will have time to discuss what must be done.” 

They all accepted the invitation and left one after the 
other. When Mr. Osborne was passing out Mr. Clifton 
laid his hand on his arm. 

44 You will surely be at my house, Mr. Osborne?” he 
whispered. 44 We could not do without you. All heads ” 
— with a slight inclination to those going out — 44 are not 
gifted with the clear good sense of yours.” 

44 Sure and certain,” responded the gratified judge; 
44 fire and water wouldn't keep me away.” 

Soon after Mr. Clifton was left alone another clerk en- 
tered. 

44 Miss Clifton is asking' to see you, sir; and Colonel 
Hood's come again.” 

44 Send in Miss Clifton first,” was the answer. 44 What 
is it, Fannie?” 

44 Ah! you may well ask what. Saying this morning 
you could not dine as usual, and then marching off and 
never fixing the hour. How can I give my orders?” 

44 1 thought business would have called me out, but 1 
am not going now. We will dine a little earlier, though, 
Fannie — say a quarter before six. I have invited—” 

44 What's up, Harold?” interrupted Fannie. 

44 Up? Nothing that I know of. 1 am very busy, Fan- 
nie, and Colonel Hood is waiting. 1 will talk to you at 
lunch time. I have invited a party for dinner.” 

44 A party!” echoed Fannie. 

44 Four or five of the judges.” 

44 They sha’n't come!” screamed Miss Clifton. 44 Do 
you think I'll be poisoned with cigar smoke after dinner?” 

44 You need not sit in the room.” 

44 Nor they neither. Clean lace curtains are just put up 
throughout the house, and I'll have no horrid smoke to 
blacken them.” 

44 And now, Fannie, 1 really must beg you to leave me.” 

44 When I have come to the bottom of this affair with 
Lulu Osborne,” resolutely returned Fannie, dropping the 
point of the contest as to the judges. 44 1 asked Lulu what 
She came here for, Bumm for her mamma touching 


38 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

money matters, was her reply. 1 tell you, Harold, I’ll 
hear what, it is. 1 should like to know what you and Lulu 
do with a secret between you!” 

Mr. Clifton knew her and her resolute expression well, 
and he took his course to tell her the truth. She was, to 
borrow the words Lulu had used to her brother with regard 
to him, true as steel. Confide to Miss Clifton a secret, and 
she was trustworthy and impervious as she could be; but 
let her once suspect that there was a secret which was be- 
ing kept from her, and she would set to work like a ferret, 
and never stop until it was unearthed. 

Mr. Clifton bent forward and spoke in a whisper. 

“ J will tell you, if you wish to know, Fannie; but it is 
not a pleasant thing to her. Tom Osborne has returned.” 

Miss Clifton looked perfectly aghast. 

“ Tom Osborne? Is he mad?” 

“ It is not a very sane proceeding. He wants money 
from his mother, and Mrs. Osborne sent Lulu to ask me to 
manage it for her. No wonder poor Lulu was flurried and 
nervous, for there’s danger on all sides.” 

“ Is he at their house?” 

“ How could he be there and his father in it? He is 
hiding two or three miles off, disguised as a laborer, and 
will be at the grove of trees to-night to receive the money. 
I have invited the judges to get Mr. Osborne safe away 
from his own house. If he saw Tom he would undoubt- 
edly give him up to justice; and, putting graver considera- 
tions aside, that would be pleasant neither for you nor me. 
To have a connection of ours hung for a willful murder 
would be an ugly blot on the Clifton escutcheon, Fannie.” 

Miss Clifton sat in silence, revolving the new T s, a con- 
traction on her ample brow. 

“ And now you know all, Fannie, and I do beg you to 
leave me, for I am overwhelmed with work to-day.” 


CHAPTER VI. 

The judges did not fail to keep their appointments. They 
arrived at Miss Clifton’s, one following closely upon the 
heels of the other. The reader may dissent from the ex- 
pression “Miss Clifton’s,” but it is the correct one; for 
the house was hers, not her brother’s. Though it remained 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 39 

his home, as it had been in his father’s time, the house was 
among the property bequeathed to Miss Clifton. 

Miss Clifton chose to be present, in spite of smoke, and 
she was soon as deep in the discussion as the judges were. 
It was said in the town she was as good a lawyer as her fa- 
ther had been. She undoubtedly possessed sound judgment 
in legal matters, and quick penetration. At eight o’clock 
a servant entered the room and addressed Mr. Clifton: 

44 Mr. Faber is asking to see you.” • 

Mr. Clifton rose and came back with an open note in his 
hand. 

44 I am sorry to find that I must leave you for half an 
hour; some important business has arisen; but I will be 
back as soon as I can.” 

44 Who has sent for you?” immediately demanded Miss 
Clifton. 

Ife gave her a quiet look, which she interpreted into a 
warning not to question. 

“ Mr. Faber is here, and will join you to talk the affair 
over,” he said to his guests. “ He knows the law better 
than 1 do; but I will not be long.” 

He quitted the house and walked with rapid step toward 
Mr. Osborne’s. The moon was bright, as on the previous 
evening. 

After he left the town behind him, and was passing the 
scattered houses already mentioned, he cast an involuntary 
gbance at the woods which rose behind them on the left. 

There was one small house or cottage just within the 
woods, and in that cottage had occurred the murder for 
which Thomas Osborne’s life was in jeopardy. It was no 
longer occupied, for nobody would rent it or live in it. 

Lulu was at the window, looking out, and she came her- 
self to open the door for Mr. Clifton. 

4 4 Mamma is in the most excited state,” she whispered 
to him as he entered. 44 1 knew how it would be.” 

44 Has he come yet?” 

44 1 have no doubt of it; but he has made no signal.” 

Mrs. Osborne, ^feverish and agitated, with a burning spot 
on her delicate cheeks, stood by the chair, not occupying 
it. Mr. Clifton placed a pocket-book in her hands. 

44 1 have brought it chiefly in notes,” he said; 44 they 
will be easier for him to carry than gold.” 


40 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


Mrs. Obsorne answered only by a look of gratitude, and 
clasped Mr. Clifton’s hand in both hers. 

“ Harold, I must see my boy. How can it be managed? 
Must I go into the garden to him, or may he come in 
here?” 

“ I think he might come in. You know how very bad 
the night air is for you. Are the servants much astir this 
evening?” 

“ Things seemed to have turned out quite kindly,” said 
Lulu. 44 It happens that they are all away. ” 

“ Then they are safe,” observed Mr. Clifton, 44 and Tom 
may come in.” 

44 1 will go and see if he has come,” said Lulu. 

44 Stay where you are. Lulu; I will go myself,” said Mr. 
Clifton. “Have the door open when you see us coming 
up the path.” 

Lulu gave a faint cry, and, trembling, clutched the arm 
of Mr. Clifton. 

“ There he is! See — standing out from the trees, just 
opposite this window!” 

Mr. Clifton turned to Mrs. Osborne. 

44 1 shall not bring him in immediately, for if I am to 
have an interview with him it must be got over first, that 
I may go back home to the judges and keep Mr. Osborne 
all safe.” 

He proceeded on his way, gained the trees, and plunged 
into them. Leaning against one stood Thomas Osborne. 
Apart from his disguise and false and fierce black whiskers, 
he was a blue-eyed, fair, pleasant-looking young' man, 
slight, and of middle height, and quite as yielding and 
gentle as his mother. In her this mild yieldingness of dis- 
position was rather a graceful quality; in Tom it was re- 
garded as a contemptible misfortune. In his boyhood he 
had been nicknamed 44 Leafy Tom,” and when a stranger 
inquired why, the answer was that, as a leaf was swayed 
by the wind, so he was swayed by every one around him, 
never possessing a will of his own. In short, Thomas Os- 
borne, though of an amiable and loving nature, was not 
overburdened with what the world calls brains. 

44 Is my mother coming out to me?” asked Tom, after 
a few interchanged sentences with Mfl*«Clifton. 

44 No; you are to go in-doors. Your father is away, am) 
the servants tire out and will not be home till late,” 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 41 

“ Let us go in then. I am anxious to get away. Am 1 
to have the money ?" 

“ Yes, yes. But your sister says you wish to disclose to 
me the true history of- that lamentable night. You had 
better speak while we are here.” 

“ It was Lulu herself wanted you to hear it. I think it 
of little moment. If the whole place heard the truth from 
me, it would do no good, for I should get no relief — not 
even from you. ” 

“ Try me, Tom, in as few words as possible.” 

“ Well, there was a row at home about my going so 
much to TruesdelTs. The governor and my mother 
thought 1 went after Kate; perhaps I did, and perhaps I 
didn't. Truesdell had asked me to lend him my gun, and 
that evening, when I went to see Ka — when 1 went to see 
some one — Never mind — ” 

44 Tom,” interrupted Mr. Clifton, 44 there's an old say- 
ing, and it is sound advice: ‘ Tell the whole truth to your 
lawyer and doctor.' If I am to judge whether anything 
can be attempted for you, you must tell all to me; other- 
wise 1 would rather hear nothing. It shall be a sacred 
trust. '' 

44 Then, if 1 must, 1 must,” returned the yielding Tom. 
44 1 did love the girl; I would have waited until I could 
have made her my wife, though it had been for years and 
years. 1 could not do it in the face of my father's opposi- 
tion.” 

44 Your wife?” rejoined Mr. Clifton, with some em- 
phasis. 

Tom looked surprised. 

44 Why, you don't suppose I meant anything else. I 
wouldn't have been such a scamp!” 

44 Well, go on, Tom. Did she return your love?” 

44 1 can’t be certain. Sometimes I thought she did, 
sometimes not; she used to play and dilly-dally, and she 
liked too much to be with him. I would not think her 
capricious — telling me I must not come this evening, and 
I must not come the other; but I r found out they were 
evenings when she was expecting him. We were never 
there together.” 

44 You forget that you have not indicated 4 him 9 by any 
name.” 


42 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

Tom bent forward till his black whiskers brushed Mr. 
Clifton’s shoulder. 

“It was that cursed Tilford.” 

Mr. Clifton remembered the name Lulu mentioned. 

“Who was Tilford? I never heard of him/’ 

“ Neither did anybody else, 1 expect, in Barrington. He 
took precious good care of that. He lives some miles 
away, and used to come over in secret.” 

“ Courting Kate?” 

“ Yes, he did come courting her,” returned Tom, in a 
savage tone. “ Distance was no barrier. He would come 
galloping over at dusk, tie his horse tona tree in the woods, 
and pass an hour or two with Kate. In the house, when 
her father was not at home, roaming about the woods with 
her when he was.” 

“ Come to the point, Tom — to the evening.” 

“ Truesdell’s gun was out of order, and he requested the 
loan of mine. I had made an appointment with Kate to 
be at her house that evening, and I went down after din- 
ner, carrying the gun with me. My father called after me 
to know where I was going. I said out with young Wood- 
bridge, not caring to meet his opposition; and the lie told 
against me at the inquest. When I reached Truesdell’s, 
going the back way along the fields and through the wood- 
path, as I generally did go, Kate came out, ail reserve, as 
she could be at times, and said she was unable to see me 
then; that I must go back home. We had a few words 
about it, and as we were speaking Clarke passed and saw 
me with the gun in my hand. But it ended in my giving 
way. She could do just what she liked with me, for I 
loved the very ground she trod on. I gave her the gun, 
telling her it was loaded, and she took it in-doors, shutting 
me out. I did not go away; I had suspicions that she had 
Tilford there, though she denied it to me; and I hid 
myself in some trees near the house. Again Clarke came 
in view and saw me there, and called out to know why 1 
was hiding. 1 shied further off, and did not answer him. 
What were my private movements to him? And that also 
told against me at the inquest. Not long afterward — 
twenty minutes, perhaps — I heard a shot, which seemed to 
be in the direction of the cottage. Somebody having a late 
pop at the partridges, thought 1 ; for the sun was then set- 
ting, and at the moment I saw Hood emerge from the trees 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON". 


43 


and run in the direction of the cottage. That was the shot 
that killed Truesdell.” 

There was a pause. Mr. Clifton looked keenly at Tom 
in the moonlight. 

“ Very soon, almost in the same minute, as it seemed, 
some one came panting and tearing along the path leading 
from the cottage. It was Tilford. His appearance startled 
me. 1 had never seen a man show more utter terror. 
His face was livid, his eyes seemed starting, and his lips 
were drawn back from his teeth. Had 1 been a strong 
man I should surely have attacked him. 1 wa's mad with 
jealousy, for I then saw that Kate had sent me away that 
she might entertain him.” 

“ I thought you said this Tilford never came but at 
dusk?” observed Mr. Clifton. 

“ I never knew him to do so until that evening. All I 
can say is, he was there then. He flew along swiftly, and 
1 afterward heard the sound of his horse’s hoofs galloping 
away. 1 wondered what was up that he should look so 
scared and scud away as though the deuce was after him. 
1 wondered if he had quarreled with Kate. 1 ran to the 
house, leaped up the two steps, and — Harold, I fell over 
the prostrate body of Truesdell! He was lying just within, 
on the kitchen floor, dead. Blood was round about him, 
and my gun, just discharged, was thrown near. He had 
been shot in the side.” 

Tom stopped for breath. Mr. Clifton did not speak. 

“ I called to Kate. No one answered. No one was in 
the lower hall and room, and it seemed that no one was in 
the upper. A sort of panic came over me — a fear. You 
know they always said at home I was a coward; 1 could 
not have remained another miuute with that dead man 
had it been to save any own life. 1 caught up the gun and 
was making off, when — ” 

“ Why did you catch up your gun?” interrupted Mr. 
Clifton. 

“ Some vague notion flashed on my brain that my gun 
ought not to be found near the murdered body of Trues- 
dell. I was flying from the door, when Clarke emerged 
from the woods in full view; and what possessed me I 
can’t tell, but 1 did the worst thing I could do — flung the 
gun in-doors again and got away.” 

“ Nothing told against you so much as that,” observed 


44 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON". 



Mr. Clifton. “ Clarke deposed that he had seen you leave 
the cottage, gun in hand, apparently in great commotion; 
that the moment you saw him you hesitated, as from fear, 
flung back the gun, and escaped.” 

Tom stamped his foot. 

44 Ay! and all owing to my cursed cowardice. But let 
me go on: 1 came upon Hood; he was standing in the 
half circle where the trees have been cut. Now, I knew 
that Hood, if he had gone straight in the direction of the 
cottage, must have met Tilford leaving it. 

44 4 Did you encounter that hound?’ I asked him. 

44 4 What hound?’ returned Hood. 

44 4 That fine fellow — that Tilford, who comes after Kate,’ 
I answered; for I did not mind mentioning her name in 
my passion. 

4 4 4 1 don’t know any Tilford,’ returned Hood, 4 and I 
didn’t know anybody was after Kate but yourself.’ 

4 4 4 Did you hear a shot?’ I went on. 

44 4 Yes, I did,’ he replied; 4 1 suppose it was Clarke, for 
he’s about this evening. ’ 

4 4 4 And I saw you,’ I continued, 4 just at the moment 
the shot was fired, turn round the corner in the direction 
of Truesdell’s.’ 

4 4 4 So 1 did,’ he said; 4 but only to strike into the woods 
a little further up. What’s your drift?’ 

4 4 4 Did you not encounter Tilford running from the cot- 
tage?’ 1 persisted. 

4 4 4 1 have encountered no one,’ he said, 4 and 1 don’t be- 
lieve anybody’s about but ourselves and Clarke. ’ 

44 1 quitted him and came off,” concluded Tom. 44 He 
evidently had not seen Tilford, and knew nothing.” 

44 And you decamped the same night. Tom, it was a 
fatal step!” 

44 1 thought I’d wait quietly and see how things turned 
out; but you don’t know all. Three or four hours later I 
went to the cottage again, and I managed to see Kate for 
a minute. I never shall forget it. Before I could utter a 
syllable she flew out at me, accusing me of being the mur- 
derer of her father, and she fell into hysterics out there on 
the grass. If she can think me guilty, the world will think 
me guilty, was my argument; and that night 1 went right 
off, to stop in hiding for a day or two, till I saw my way 
clear. It never came pe^r; the verdict floored me, And 


MR. CRlFTON OF BARRINGTON - . 45 

Kate — but I won’t curse her — fanned the flame against me 
by denying that any one had been there that night.” 

Mr. Clifton remained silent, rapidly running over in his 
mind the chief points of Tom’s communication. 

“ Four of you, as 1 understand it, were in the vicinity 
of the cottage that night, and from one or the other the 
shot proceeded. You were at a distance, you say, Tom; 
Hood also could not have been.” 

“ It was not Hood who did it; it was an impossibility. 
1 saw him, as I tell you, the same moment that the gun 
was fired.” 

“ But now, where was Clarke?’ ’ 

4 4 He was within my view at the time. It was Tilford 
did the deed, beyond all doubt, and the verdict ought to 
have been willful murder against him. Harold, I see you 
don’t believe my story!” 

44 What you say has startled me, and I must take time 
to consider whether 1 believe it or not,” said Mr. Clifton, 
in his straightforward manner. 44 The most singular thing 
is, if you witnessed this Tilford ’s running from the cottage 
in the manner you describe, that you did not come forward 
and denounce him.” 

44 What would my word have availed that it was Tilford, 
when there was nobody to corroborate it?” 

44 Another thing strikes me as curious,” said Mr. Clif- 
ton. 44 If this man Tilford was in the habit of coming to 
Barrington evening after evening, how was it that he 
never was observed? This is the first time I have heard 
any stranger’s name mentioned in connection with the 
affair, or with Kate.” 

44 It was evident to me at the time that he was striving 
to do so in secret. I told Kate so, and that it augured 
no good for her. And as surely as that we — I, Tilford, 
Kate, and Truesdell — must one day meet together, I have 
told you the truth!” 

The words were solemn, their tone earnest. Mr. Clifton 
remained silent, his thoughts full. 

44 To what end, else, should I say this?” went on Tom. 
44 It can do me no service; all the assertions I could put 
forth would not go a jot toward clearing me.” 

44 No, they would not,” assented Mr. Clifton. 4 ‘ If ever 
you are cleared, it must be by proofs. But I will keep my 


46 MR. CLIFTOM OF FARRINGTON. 

thoughts on the matter, and should anything arise— ^ 
What sort of a man was this Tilford?” 

“ In age he might be twenty- three or four, tall and 
slender, and an out-and-out aristocrat . 99 

“ And his connections? Where did he live?” 

“ I never knew. Kate, in her boasting way, would say 
he had to come from Hillsdale, a ten-mile ride.” 

“ From Hillsdale?” quickly interrupted Mr. Clifton. 
“ Could it be one of the Tilfords of Hillsdale?” 

44 None of the Tilfords that I know of. He was a totally 
different sort of man, with his perfumed hands, and his 
rings, and his dainty gloves. That he was an aristocrat J 
believe, but of bad taste and style, displaying a profusion 
of jewelry.” 

A half smile flitted over Mr. Clifton’s face. 

“Was it real, Tom?” 

“ It was. He would wear diamond shirt-studs, diamond 
rings, diamond pins — all of the first water. My impres- 
sion was that he put them on to dazzle Kate.” 

“ By your description it could not have been one of the 
Tilfords of Hillsdale — wealthy farmers and fathers of 
young families — short, stout, and heavy as Dutchmen, staid 
and most respectable. Very unlikely men are they to run 
into an expedition of that sort.” 

“ What expedition?” questioned Tom. “ The mur- 
der?” 

“ The riding after Kate. Tom, where is Kate?” 

Tom had lifted his eyes in surprise. 

“ How should I know? I was just going to ask you.” 

Mr. Clifton paused. He thought Tom’s answer rather 
an evasive one. 

“ She disappeared immediately after the funeral, and it 
was thought — in short, Tom, the neighborhood gave her 
credit for having gone after you.” 

“No! did they? What a pack of idiots. 1 have never 
seen or heard of her, Harold, since that unfortunate night. 
If she went after anybody it was after Tilford.” 

“ Was the man good-looking?” 

“ I suppose the world would call him so. Kate thought 
such an Adonis had never been coined out of fable. He 
had black hair and whiskers, dark eyes and handsome 
features. But his vain dandyism spoiled him.” 

Mr. Clifton could ascertain no more particulars, and it 


CLiFTON OF BARRINGTON. 47 

was time Tom went in-doors. They proceeded up the path, 
and entered the door. Mr. Clifton’s part was over; he left 
the poor exile to his short interview with his hysterical and 
tearful mother, Tom nearly as hysterical as she, and made 
the best of his way home again, pondering over what he 
had heard. He found the judges just about finishing up 
their discussion and cigars. Mr. Clifton invited them to 
have another bottle of wine and more cigars, so it was 
about twelve o’clock when they wished Mr. Clifton good- 
night, and departed. But Mr. Faber, in obedience to a note 
from him, remained. Fannie had gone to bed with a head- 
ache from the smoke. 

44 Sit down again, Faber; I want to ask you a question. 
You are intimate with the Tilfords of Hillsdale. Do they 
happen to have any relative, a nephew or cousin, perhaps — 
a dandy young feliow?” 

44 1 went over last Sunday to spend the day with Henry.” 

44 Young Henry? He must be forty, I suppose.” 

44 About that. But you and I estimate ages differently, 
Mr. Clifton. They have no nephew.” 

44 Mr. Faber,” said Mr. Clifton, 44 something has arisen 
which, in my mind, casts a doubt upon Thomas Osborne’s 
guilt. I question whether he had anything to do with the 
murder. ” 

Mr. Faber opened his eyes. 

44 But his flight, Mr. Clifton, and his stopping away?” 

44 Suspicious circumstances, I grant. Still, I have good 
cause to doubt. At the time it happened some dandy 
fellow used to come courting Kate Truesdell in secret; a 
tall slender man, as he is described to me, bearing the 
name of Tilford and living at Hillsdale. Could it have 
been one of the Tilford family?” 

44 Mr. Clifton!” remonstrated the old clerk; 44 as if those 
two respected farmers with their wives and babies would 
come sneaking after that fly-away Kate!” 

44 No reflection on them, ” returned Mr. Clifton. 44 This 
was a young man, a head taller than either. I thought it 
might be a relative.” 

44 1 have repeatedly heard the men say that they are alone 
in the world; that they are the two last of the name. De- 
pend upon it it was nobody connected with them;” and, 
wishing Mr. Clifton good-night, he departed. 

The servant came in to remove the glasses and obnoxious 


48 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

cigar ashes. Presently he asked the servant if Sally had 
gone to bed. 

“No, sir, she is just going. ” 

“ Send her here when you have taken those things 
away.” 

Sally came in. She was of middle height, and never would 
see thirty-five again; her forehead was broad, her gray eyes 
were deeply set; and her face was pale. Altogether she 
was plain, but sensible-looking. She was a half-sister of 
Kate Truesdell. 

“ Shut the door, Sally.” 

Sally did as she was bid, came forward, and stood by the 
table. 

“ Have you ever heard from your sister?” began Mr. 
Clifton, somewhat abruptly. 

“No, sir,” was the reply. “ I think it would be a won- 
der if I did hear.” 

“ Why so?” 

“ If she could go off after Tom Osborne, who had sent 
her father into his grave, she would be, more likely to hide 
herself and her doings than to proclaim them to me, sir.” 

“ Who was that other — that fine-looking gentleman who 
came after her?” 

The color mantled in Sally’s cheeks, and she dropped 
her voice. 

“Sir! did you hear of him?” 

“ Not at that time. Since. He came from Hillsdale, 
did he not?” 

“ I believe so, sir. Kate never would say much about 
him. We did not agree upon the point. 1 said a person 
like him would do no good, and<Kate flew out when I spoke 
against him. I only saw him once; I had gone home 
early, and there sat he and Kate. His white hands were 
all glittering with . . . and his shirt was finished off 
with shining stones where the buttons ought to be,” 

“ Have you seen him since?” 

“ Never, but once; and I don’t think I should know him 
if I did see him. He got up, sir, as soon as I went into 
the parlor, shook hands with Kate, and left. He was 
nearly as tall as you are, sir — a fine-looking man. Those 
soldiers always do carry themselves well.” 

“ How do you know he was a soldier?” quickly rejoined 
Mr. Clifton. 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BAR RING TOM. 49 

“ Kate told me so. ‘ The captain/ she used to call 
him; but she said he was not a captain yet awhile — next 
grade to it — a — a — ” 

“ Lieutenant?” suggested Mr. Clifton. 

“Yes, sir; that was it— Lieutenant Tilford.” 

“ Sally,” said Mr. Clifton, “ has it never struck you that 
Kate is more likely to have followed Lieutenant Tilford 
than Tom Osborne?” 

“No, sir,” answered Sally. “ 1 have felt certain always 
that she is with Tom Osborne, and nothing can turn me 
from the belief. All Barrington is convinced of it.” 

Mr. Clifton did not attempt to “ turn her from the be- 
lief.” He dismissed her, and sat on still, revolving the 
case in all its bearings. 

Thomas Osborne’s short interview with his mother had 
soon terminated. It had lasted but a quarter of an hour, 
both dreading interruption from the returning servants; 
and with the five hundred dollars in his pocket and deso- 
lation at heart the ill-fated young man once more quitted 
his childhood’s home. 

Mrs. Osborne and Lulu watched him steal down the path 
in the tell-tale moonlight and gain the road, both feeling 
that those farewell kisses they had pressed upon his lips 
would not be renewed for '.years, and perhaps not forever. 


CHAPTER VII. 

The church clocks at Barrington struck nine one lovely 
morning in July, and then the bells chimed out, giving 
token that it was Sunday. 

The Barrington estate had changed owners, and now it 
was the property of Mr. Clifton. He had bought it as it 
stood, furniture and all ; but the transfer had been conducted 
with secrecy, and was suspected by none save those engaged 
in the negotiations. Whether Mr. William Barrington 
thought it might prevent any one getting on the scent, or 
whether he wished to take farewell of a place he had for- 
merly been fond of, certain it is that he craved a week or 
two’s visit to it. Mr. Clifton most readily and graciously 
acquiesced, and Mr. Barrington and his daughter and 
retinue of servants had arrived the previous day. 

All Barrington was in ecstasies; the great aristocrat, Mr. 
Barrington, and his lovely daughter, of the Barrington 


50 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


estate, were to be at church. The toilets prepared to meet 
his admiring eyes were prodigious, and pretty Lulu Osborne 
was not the only young lady who had thereby to encounter 
the paternal storm. 

Miss Clifton was ready for church at the usual time, 
plainly but well dressed. As she and Harold were leaving 
their house they saw something looming up the street 
flashing and gleaming in the sun. A pink parasol covered 
with white lace came first, a pink hat and feather behind 
it, then a gray brocaded dress and tan gloves. 

“ The vain little idiot !” ejaculated Miss Clifton. But 
Lulu sailed up the street toward them, unconscious of the 
apostrophe. 

“ The judge might well call out, ‘ You are finer than a 
sunbeam!’ ” 

“Not half so fine as many another in the church will be 
to-day,” responded Lulu, as she lifted her shy blue eyes 
and blushing face to answer the greeting of Mr. Clifton. 

Lulu sat in the Clifton pew that day, for she thought the 
further she was away from her father the better; there was 
no knowing but he might take a sly, revengeful cut at the 
feather in the middle of the service, and so spoil its beauty. 
Scarcely were they seated when some stranger came quietly 
up the aisle — a gentleman who limped as he walked, with 
a furrowed brow and gray hair, and with him a young lady. 
Lulu looked round with eagerness, but looked away again. 
They could not be the expected strangers; the young lady’s 
dress was too plain. 

“ Who in the world can they be?” whispered Lulu to 
Miss Clifton. “ That old stupid usher has shown them into 
the Barrington pew; he is always putting people in the 
wrong place.” 

“ It is Mr. Barrington and his daughter.” 

The color flushed into Lulu’s face, and she stared at 
Miss Clifton. “ She’s plainer than anybody in the church. 
I should have known her from her likeness to her poor 
mother— just the same eyes and sweet expression.” 

Ay, those brown eyes, so full of sweetness and melan- 
choly — few who had seen them once Could mistake or forget 
them. Lulu, forgetting where she was, looked at them much 
that day. 

“ She is very lovely,” thought Lulu, “ and her dress is 
certainly that of a lady. I wish I had not had this stream- 


MU. CLiPTOisr OS’ BARRINGTON - . 51 

mg pink feather. What fine jackdaws she must deem us 
country people!” 

Mr. Barrington’s carriage was waiting at the conclusion 
of the service. He handed his daughter in, and was put- 
ting his gouty foot upon the step to follow her, when he 
observed Mr. Clifton. He turned and held out his hand. A 
man who could purchase the Barrington estate was worthy 
of being received as an equal, though he was but a country 
lawyer. 

Mr. Clifton shook hands with Mr. Barrington, ap- 
proached the carriage, and raised his hat to Hazel Barring- 
ton. She bent forward with her pleasant smile, and put 
her hand into his. 

“ 1 have many things to say to you,” said Mr. Barring- 
ton. “ I wish you would go home with us if you have 
nothing better to do. ” 

“ Fannie, I shall not be home to dinner; lam going with 
Mr. Barrington. Good-day, Lulu.” 

Mr. Clifton stepped into the carriage, and it drove away. 
The sun shone still, but the day’s brightness had gone out 
for Lulu Osborne. 

“ How does he know the Barringtons so well? How 
does he know the young lady?” she said, in her astonish- 
ment. 

“ Harold knows something about most people,” replied 
Miss Clifton. “ He saw Mr. Barrington frequently, when 
he was in the city in the spring, and Miss Barrington once 
or twice. What a lovely face hers is!” 

Lulu made no reply. She returned home with Miss 
Clifton, but her manner was as absent as her heart, and 
that had run away to the Barrington estate. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Before Mr. Barrington had completed the fortnight of 
his proposed stay the gout came on seriously. It was im- 
possible for him to move away from the Barrington estate. 
Mr. Clifton assured him he was only too pleased that he 
should remain as long as might be convenient, and Mr. 
Barrington expressed his acknowledgments. He hoped soon 
to be re-established on his legs. 

But he was not. Tile gout came and the gout went — 
not positively laying him up in bed, but rendering him un- 


52 MB. CLIFTOK OF BABBlNGtOtf. 

able to leave his rooms, and this continued till October, 
when he grew much worse. 

The country families had been neighborly, calling on the 
invalid; but his chief and constant visitor had been Mr. 
Clifton. Mr. Barrington had grown to like him in no 
common degree, and was disappointed if Mr. Clifton spent 
an evening away from him; so that he became, as it were, 
quite domesticated with Mr. Barrington and Hazel. 

“ I am not quite equal to general society,” he observed 
to his daughter, “ and it is considerate and kind of Mr. 
Clifton to come here and cheer my loneliness.” 

“ Extremely kind,” said Hazel. “ 1 like him very 
much, papa.” 

“ I don’t know anybody that 1 like half as well,” was 
the rejoinder. 

Mr. Clifton went up as usual and found Mr. Barrington 
alone. Hazel had gone riding. It was a very long country 
road Hazel had selected for her ride; she was enjoying it 
with all the fervor of spirited youth, and when she was re- 
turning she saw in the distance one of the servants gallop- 
ing at full speed to meet her. When she came within speak- 
ing distance the servant urged her to make haste, as her 
father was taken seriously ill, and no time was to be lost. 

The housekeeper, Mrs. Hamilton, waited at the hall door 
to receive her, and Mr. Clifton helped her to alight. She 
scarcely dared to inquire, “ Is he better? May 1 go to his 
room?” 

An officious servant came running to meet her, saying her 
father was “ screaming shockingly, but the doctor thinks 
he will live till morning. ” 

With a sharp cry she seized the arm of Mr. Clifton — 
seized it for support in her shock of agony. Mr. Clifton 
thrust the servant away and led Hazel up to her father’s 
room, and allowed her to enter. Yes, her father was bet- 
ter — better in so far that he was quiet and senseless. Mr. 
Clifton drew the housekeeper aside. 

“ Is there any hope?” 

“ Not the slightest, sir; he is dying.” 

Mr. Barrington knew no one. Pain was gone for the pres- 
ent, and he lay on his bed, calm; but his face, which had 
death in it all too plainly, startled Hazel. She did not 
scream or cry; she was perfectly quiet, save that she had a 
fit of shivering. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 53 

41 Will he soon be better?” she whispered to the doctor 
who stood there. 

The doctor coughed. “ Well — he — he — we must hope it.” 

“ But why does his face look like that? It is pale — gray; 
I never saw anybody else look so. ” 

“ He has been in great pain, and pain leaves its traces 
on the countenance.” 

Mr. Clifton, who had come, and was standing by the doc- 
tor, touched his arm to draw him from the room. He 
noticed the look on Mr. Barrington’s face, and did not like 
it; he wished to question the doctor. Hazel saw that Mr. 
Clifton was about to quit the room, and beckoned to him. 

“ Do not leave the house, Mr. Clifton. When he wakes 
up it may cheer him to see you here; he liked you very 
much.” 

“ I will not leave it. Miss Barrington: Idid not think of 
doing so.” 

In time — it seemed an age — the medical men arrived 
from Hillsdale — three of them; the groom had thought he 
could not summon too many. Jt was a sad scene they en- 
tered upon: the ghastly patient growing restless again, now 
battling with his departing spirit, and the beautiful young 
girl watching at his side. 

They stooped to look at the patient, and felt his pulse 
and touched his heart, and exchanged a few murmured 
words with Dr. Gilbert. Hazel had stood back to give 
them place, but her anxious eyes followed their every move- 
ment. They did not seem to notice her, and she stepped 
forward. 

“ Can you do anything for him? Will he recover?” 

They all turned at the words and looked at her. One 
spoke. It was an evasive answer. 

“ Tell me the truth!” she implored, with feverish im- 
patience; “ you must not trifle with me. Do you not know 
me? I am his only child, and I am here alone.” 

The first thing was to get her away from the room, for 
the great change was approaching, and the parting struggle 
between the body and the spirit might be one of warfare- 
no sight for her. But, in answer to their suggestion that 
she should go, she only leaned her head upon the pillow by 
her father, and moaned in despair. 

“ She must be got out of the room,” said one of the 
physicians, almost angrily. “ Madame,” turning suddenly 


54 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


upon the housekeeper, “ are there no relatives in the house 
— no one who can exert influence over the young lady?” 

“ She has scarcely any relatives,” replied the house- 
keeper— “ no near ones; and we happen to be, just now, 
quite alone.” 

But Mr. Clifton, seeing the urgency of the case — for the 
patient with every minute grew more excited — approached 
and whispered to her: 

“ You are as anxious as we can be for your father’s re- 
covery?” 

“ As anxious!” she uttered, reproachfully. 

“ You know what I would imply. Of course our anxiety 
can be nothing to yours.” 

“ Asnothiug — as nothing. 1 think my heart will break.” 

“ Then — forgive me — you should not oppose the wishes 
of these medical men. They wish to be alone with him, 
and time is being lost. ” 

She rose up, placed her hands on her brow, as if to col- 
lect the sense of the words, and then she addressed the 
doctors: 

“ Is it really necessary that 1 should leave the room — 
necessary for him?” 

“ It is necessary— absolutely essential.” 

She broke into a passion of tears and sobs as Mr. Clifton 
led her to another apartment. 

“ He is my dear father; I have but him in the wide 
world!” she exclaimed. 

“ I know — 1 know; I feel for you all that you are feeling. 
Twenty times this night I have wished — forgive me the 
thought — that you were my sister, so that I might express 
my sympathy more freely and comfort you.” 

“ Tell me the truth, then: why am 1 kept away? If you 
can show me a sufficient cause 1 will be reasonable and 
obey; but do not say again I should be disturbing him, for 
it is not true.” 

“ He is too ill for you to see him — his symptoms are too 
painful. In fact it would not be proper; and were you to 
go in, in defiance of advice, you would regret it all your 
after-life.” 

“ Is he dying?” 

Mr. Clifton hesitated. Ought he to dissemble with her 
as the doctors had done? A strong feeling was upon him 
that he ought not. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


55 


“ I trust to you not to deceive me.” 

“ 1 fear he is — 1 believe he is.” 

She rose up — she grasped his arm in sudden fear that 
flashed over her. 

“You are deceiving me, and he is dead!” 

“ I am not deceiving you. Miss Barrington. He is not 
dead, but — it may be very near.” 

She laid her head down upon the soft pillow. “Going 
forever from me — going forever! Oh, Mr. Clifton, let me 
see him for a minute — just one farewell! Will you not try 
for me?” 

He knew how hopeless it was; but he turned to leave the 
room. 

“ I will go and see. But you will remain here quietly — 
you will not come?” 

She bowed her head in acquiescence, and he closed the 
door. Had she indeed been his sister he would probably 
have turned the key upon her. He entered the death- 
chamber. But not many seconds did he remain in it. 

“It is over,” he whispered to Mrs. Hamilton, whom he 
met in the hall, “ and the doctor is asking for you.” 

“ You are soon back,” cried Hazel, lifting her head. 
“ May I go?” 

He sat down and took her hand. 

“ I wish I could comfort you,” he exclaimed, in a tone 
of deep emotion. 

Her face turned to ghastly whiteness — as white as an- 
other's not far away. 

“ Tell me the worst,” she breathed. 

“ I have nothing to tell but the worst.” 

She turned to hide her face and its misery from him, 
and a low wail of anguish broke from her, telling its own 
tale of despair. ( 

The gray dawn of morning was breaking over the world, 
the advent of another bustling day in life's history; but the 
spirit of William Barrington, of the Barrington estate, had 
soared away from it forever. 


CHAPTER IX. 

Events between the death of Mr. Barrington and his in- 
terment occurred quickly. He died on Friday morning at 
daylight. The jiews spread rapidly, and was known in 


56 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


New York before the day was over, the consequence of 
which was that by the following day, by some unforeseen 
incident, Hazel Barrington knew that she was utterly pen- 
niless, and living on the bounty of Mr. Clifton. 

Since the previous morning she seemed to have grown 
old. Her ideas were changed; the bent of her thoughts had 
been violently turned from their course. Instead of being a 
young lady of high position and wealth, she appeared to 
herself more in the light of an unfortunate pauper, an in- 
terloper in the house she was inhabiting. 

On the following morning, Sunday, Mr. Clifton proceeded 
again to the Barrington estate and found, to his surprise, 
that there was no arrival of any of the few friends who had 
been notified of Mr. Barrington’s death. Hazel sat in the 
breakfast-room alone, the meal on the table untouched, and 
she shivering — as it seemed — on a low ottoman before the 
fire. She looked so ill that Mr. Clifton could not forbear 
remarking upon it. 

“ I have not slept, and I am very cold,” she anwered. 
“ I did not close my eyes all night. It is strange that my 
friends have not come.” 

She had scarcely spoken when the servant entered with 
his silver salver full, of letters, most of them bearing con- 
dolence with Hazel. She singled out one and hastened to 
open it. 

“It is my aunt’s handwriting,” she remarked to Mr. 
Clifton. 

“ Mount Pleasant, Saturday. 

“My dear Hazel, — I am dreadfully grieved and 
shocked at the news conveyed in Mr. Clifton’s letter to my 
husband, for he has gone cruising in his yacht, and I opened 
it. Goodness knows where he may be, but he said he should 
be home for Sunday, and he is pretty punctual in keeping 
his word. I expect him. Be assured he will not lose a 
moment in hastening to Barrington. 

“ 1 can not express what I feel for you, and am too 
louleversee to write more. Try and keep up your spirits, 
and believe me, dear Hazel, with sincere sympathy and re- 
gret. Faithfully yours, 

“Dora Melborne.” 

Hazel handed the note to Mr. Clifton. 

“ It is very unfortunate,” she sighed. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


57 


Mr. Clifton glanced over it as quickly as Mrs. Melborne’s 
illegible writing allowed him. Perhaps the thought struck 
him, had Mrs. Melborne been worth a rush she would have 
come herself, knowing HazePs lonely situation. Hazel 
leaned her head upon her hand. All the difficulties and 
embarrassments of her position came crowding on her mind. 
No orders had been given in preparation for the funeral, 
and she felt she had no right to give any. 

“ Mr. Clifton, how long has this house been yours?” she 
asked. 

“ It was in June that the purchase was completed. Did 
your father never tell you he sold it to me?” 

“ No, never. All these things are yours?” glancing 
around the room. 

“ The furniture was sold with the house. Not such 
things as these,” he added, his eyes falling on the silver on 
the breakfast- table; “ not the plate and linen.” 

“ Does my father owe you any money?” she breathed, 
in a timid tone. 

“ Not any,” he replied. “ Your father was never in- 
debted to me in his life.” 

“ Yet you purchased the Barrington estate.” 

“ As any one else might have done,” he answered, dis- 
cerning the drift of her thoughts. “ 1 was in search of an 
eligible estate to invest money in, and the Barrington estate 
suited me. ” 

“ I feel my position, Mr. Clifton,” she resumed, the re- 
bellious tears forcing themselves to her eyes, “ to be thus 
intruding upon you for shelter. And I can not help my- 
self.” 

“ You can help grieving me,” he gently answered, 
“ which you do much when you talk of obligations. The 
obligation is on my side. Miss Barrington; and when 1 ex- 
press a hope that you will continue at the ^Barrington estate 
while it can be of service, however prolonged that may be, 
I assure you 1 say it in all sincerity.” 

“You are truly kind,” she faltered; “and for a few 
days, until I can think — until — Oh! Mr. Clifton, are 
papa's affairs really so bad as they say?” She broke off, 
her perplexities recurring to her with vehement force. 
“ Is there nothing left?” 

Now, Mr. Clifton might have given the evasive assur- 
ance that there would be plenty left, just to tranquil ize 


58 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON". 


her. But to have used deceit with her would have pricked 
against every feeling of his nature, and he saw how im- 
plicitly she relied upon his truth. 

“ I fear things are not very bright,” he answered. 
“ That is, so far as we can see at present. But there may 
have been some settlement effected for you that you do not 
know of. Stevenson & Taylor — ” 

“ No,” she interrupted; “ I never heard of a settlement, 
and I am sure there is none. I see the worst plainly. I 
have no home — no home, and no money! This house is 
yours; the city house and the Barrington seat down at 
Ocean Spray go to Mr. Melborne (who is papa's cousin), 
and I have nothing!” 

“ But surely Mr. Melborne will be delighted to welcome 
you to your old home. The houses pass to him. It almost 
seems as though you had a greater right in them than he 
or Mrs. Melborne.” 

“ My home with them?” she retorted, as if the words 
had stung her. “ What are you saying, Mr. Clifton?” 

“ I beg your pardon, Miss Barrington. I should not 
have presumed to touch upon these points myself, but — ” 

“ Nay, I think I ought to beg yours,” she interrupted, 
more calmly. “ I am only grateful for the interest you 
take in them — the kindness you have shown. But I could 
not make my home with Mrs. Melborne.” 

Mr. Clifton rose. He could do no good by remaining, 
and did not think it well to intrude longer, thus once 
more leaving the poor girl alone with her unhappy 
thoughts and her dead. 


CHAPTER X. 

A closed carriage was discerned thundering up the road 
that Sunday afternoon. It contained Mr. Melborne. Mr. 
Clifton soon joined him, and almost at the same time Mr. 
Stevenson arrived from New York. Absence from the 
city at the period of Mr. Barrington’s death had prevented 
Mr. Stevenson’s earlier attendance. Business was entered 
upon immediately. 

Mr. Melborne knew that Mr. Barrington had been an 
embarrassed man, but he had no conception of the extent 
of the evil; they had not been intimate, and rarely came 
in contact. As the various items of news were no>v detailed 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON - . 


59 


to him — the wasteful expenditure, the disastrous ruin, the 
total absence of provision for Hazel — he stood dumfound- 
ed and aghast. He was a tall, stout man, his nature hon- 
orable, his manners cold, and his countenance severe. 

“ It is the most iniquitous piece of business I ever heard 
of!” he exclaimed to the two lawyers. “ Of all the reck- 
less fools, he must have been the worst!” 

“ Unpardonably improvident as regards his daughter,” 
was the assenting remark. 

“ Improvident! It must have been rank madness!” re- 
torted Mr. Melborne. “No man in his senses could leave 
a child to the mercy of the world as he has left her. She 
has not a dollar, literally not a dollar in her possession. 
1 questioned her as to what money there was in the house 
when her father died; she answered, only what has been 
given to the housekeeper for housekeeping purposes. Can 
you realize such a case to the mind?” continued Mr. Mel- 
borne, excitedly. “ I will stake my veracity that such a 
one never occurred yet!” 

“ No money for her own personal wants!” exclaimed 
Mr. Clifton. “ Not a cent in the world! And there are 
no funds, and will be none, that I can see, for her to draw 
upon. ” 

“ Quite correct, Mr. Melborne,” nodded Mr. Stevenson. 

“ I understand the Barrington estate is yours,” said Mr. 
Melborne, turning sharply upon Mr. Clifton; “ Hazel has 
just said so.” 

“It is,” was the reply. “It became mine last June. 
I believe Mr. Barrington kept the fact a close secret.” 

“ He was obliged to keep it a secret,” interposed Mr. 
Stevenson, addressing Mr. Melborne, “ for not a stiver of 
the purchase money could he have fingered had it got out. 
Except ourselves and Mr. Clifton's agents, the fact was 
made known to none.” 

“It is strange, sir, that you could not urge the claims 
of his daughter upon him!” rejoined Mr. Melborne to Mr. 
Stevenson, his tone one of harsh reproof. “You were in 
his confidence, you knew the state of his affairs; it was in 
your line of duty to do so.” 

“ Knowing the state of affairs, we knew how useless the 
.urging of it would be,” returned Mr. Stevenson. “You 
have but a faint idea of the burdens Mr. Barrington had 
upon him. The interest alone upon his debts was fright- 


60 ME, CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

ful, and the deuce’s ownwork it was to get it. Not to 
speak of the kites he let loose — he would fly them, and 
nothing could stop him— and they had to be provided for.” 

“ Oh, I know!” replied Mr. Melborne, with a gesture of 
contempt. “ Drawing one bill to cover another; that was 
his system.” 

“ Drawing!” echoed Mr. Stevenson. “ It was a down- 
right mania with him.” 

“ Urged to it by his necessities, 1 conclude,” put in Mr. 
Clifton. 

•“ He had no business to have such necessities,” cried 
Mr. Melborne, wrathfully. “ But let us proceed to busi- 
ness. What money is there lying at his banker’s, Mr. 
Stevenson? Do you know?” 

“ None,” was the blank reply. “We overdrew the ac- 
count ourselves, a fortnight ago, to meet one of his press- 
ing liabilities. We hold a little.” 

“ I’m glad there’s something. What’s the amount?” 

“ Mr. Melborne,” answered Mr. Stevenson, shaking his 
head in a self-condoling manner, “ I am sorry to tell you 
what we hold will not half satisfy ,our claims — actually paid 
out of our pockets.” 

“ Then, where on earth is the money to come from, sir — 
for the funeral, for the servants’ wages, for everything, in 
fact?” 

“ There is none to come from anywhere,” was the reply 
of Mr. Stevenson. 

Mr. Melborne strode the carpet more fiercely. 

“ Wicked improvidence! shameful profligacy! callous- 
hearted man! To live a rogue and die a beggar, leaving 
his daughter to the charity of strangers!” 

“ Her case presents the worst feature of the whole 
affair.” remarked Mr. Clifton. “ What will she do for a 
home?” 

“ She must of course find it with me,” replied Mr. Mel- 
borne; “ and, 1 should hope, a better one than this. With 
all these d.uns and debts at his elbow, Mr. Barrington’s 
house could not have been a bower of roses.” 

“ I fancy she knew nothing of the state of affairs; had 
seen little, if anything, of the embarrassments,” returned 
Mr. Clifton. 

“ Mr. Clifton is right,” observed Mr. Stevenson, look- 
ing over his specatcles. “ Miss Barrington was safe at 


Mil. CLlFTOtf OF BARRlNGTOtf. 6l 

Ocean Spray, and the purchase money from the Barrington 
estate — what Mr. Barrington could touch of it — was a stop- 
gap for many things, and made matters easy for the mo- 
ment. However, his imprudence is at an end now.” 

“ No, it is not at an end now,” returned Mr. Melborne. 

Three mourners only attended the funeral — Hazel, Mr. 
Melborne, and Mr. Clifton. The latter was no relation of 
the deceased, and but a very recent friend; but Mr. Mel- 
borne had invited him, probably not liking the parading, 
solus, of his trappings of woe. Some of the country aris- 
tocracy were pall-bearers, and many private carriages fol- 
lowed. 

All was bustle on the following morning. 

Mr. Melborne was to depart, and Hazel was to depart, 
but not together. In the course of the day the domestics 
would disperse. Mr. Melborne was speeding to New York, 
and the carriage that was to convey him to the railway sta- 
tion was already at the door when Mr. Clifton arrived. 

“1 was getting fidgety, fearing you would not be here, 
for I have barely five minutes to spare,” observed Mr. Mel- 
borne, as he shook hands. “ You are sure you fully un- 
derstand about the tombstone?” 

“ Perfectly,” replied Mr. Clifton. “ How is Miss Bar- 
rington?” 

“ Very down-hearted, I fear, poor child! for she did not 
breakfast with me. The housekeeper privately told me 
she was in a convulsion of grief. A bad man — a bad 
man!” Mr. Melborne emphatically added, as he rose and 
rang the bell. 

“ Let Miss Barrington be informed that 1 am ready to 
depart, and that 1 await to see her. And while she is com- 
ing, Mr. Clifton,” he adc}ed, “ allow me to express my 
obligations to you. How I should have got along in this 
worrying business without you, I can not divine. You have 
promised, mind, to pay me a visit, and 1 shall expect it 
speedily. ” 

“ Promised conditionally— that I find myself in your 
neighborhood,” smiled Mr. Clifton. £ ‘ Should — ” 

Hazel entered, dressed also, and ready; for she was to 
depart immediately after Mr. Melborne. Her crape veil 
was over her face, but she threw it back. 

“ My time is up. Hazel, and I must go. Is there any- 
thing you wish to say to me?” 


t>2 MR. CLIFTON" 0# BARRItfGTOtf. 

She opened her lips to speak, but glanced at Mr. Clifton 
and hesitated. He was standing at the window, his back 
toward them. 

“ I suppose not,” said Mr. Melborne, answering him- 
self, for he was in a fever of hurry to be off, like many 
others are when starting on a journey. “ You will have no 
trouble whatever, my dear; only mind you to get some re- 
freshments in the middle of the day, for you won’t be at 
Mount Pleasant before evening. Tell Mrs. Melborne that 
1 had no time to write, but will do so from New York.” 

But Hazel stood before him in an attitude of uncertainty 
— of expectancy, it may be said — her color varying. 

“ What is it? You wish to say something?” 

She certainly did wish to say something, but she did not 
know how. It was a moment of embarrassment to her, 
intensely painful; and the presence of Mr. Clifton did not 
tend to lessen it. The latter had no idea his absence was 
wished for. 

“Bless me. Hazel! I declare, 1 forgot all about it!” 
cried Mr. Melborne, in a tone of vexation. “ Not being 
accustomed to — this aspect of affairs is so new — ” 

He broke off his disjointed sentences, unbuttoned his 
coat, drew out his purse, and paused over its contents. 

“ Hazel, I have run myself very short, and have but lit- 
tle beyond what will take me to the city. You must make 
twenty dollars do for now, my dear. Once at Mount 
Pleasant — Oscar has the funds for your journey — Mrs. 
Melborne will supply you; but you must tell her, or she 
will not know. ” 

He shot out of his purse two ten-dollar gold pieces on 
the table. 

“ Farewell, my dear; make yourself happy at Mount 
Pleasant. I shall be. home soon. ” 

Passing from the room with Mr. Clifton, he stood talk- 
ing with that gentleman a minute, his foot on the step of 
the carriage, and the next minute was being whirled away. 
Mr. Clifton returned to the breakfast-room, where Hazel, 
an ashy whiteness having replaced the crimson on her 
cheeks, was picking up the gold. 

“ Will you do me a favor, Mr. Clifton?” 

“ Gladly. What can I do for you?” 

She was about to answer, “ Nothing— that he had done 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 60 

enough,” but at that moment their attention was attracted 
by a bustle outside, and they moved to the window. 

It was the carriage coming round for Hazel — the late 
Mr. Barrington’s splendid equipage — having been ordered 
by Mr. Melborne, who appeared to wish Hazel to leave the 
neighborhood in as<much state as she had entered it. 

“ All is ready,” she said, “ and the time is come for me 
to go. Mr. Clifton, 1 am going to leave you a legacy. 
W ill you do me the favor of accepting those pretty gold 
and silver fish that I bought a few weeks back?” 

“ But why do you not take them?” 

“ Take them to Mrs. Melborne’s? No; I would rather 
leave them with you. Throw a few crumbs into the globe 
now and then.” 

Her face was wet with tears, and he knew that she was 
talking hurriedly to cover her emotion. 

“ Sit down a few minutes,” he said. 

“ No, no; 1 had better go at once.” 

He took her hand to conduct her to the carriage. The 
servants were gathered in the hall, waiting for her. Some 
had grown gray in her father’s service. She put out her 
hand; she strove to say a word of thanks and farewell, and 
she thought she would choke at the effort of keeping down 
the sobs. At length it was over; a kind look around, a 
yearning wave of the hand, and she passed on with Mr. 
Clifton. 

It had been decided that one of the trustworthy men- 
servants should travel with Hazel and her maid. The coach- 
man was waiting for the signal to start, but Mr. Clifton 
had the carriage door open again, and was bending in, 
holding her hand. 

“ 1 have not said a word of thanks to you for all your 
kindness; you have seen that I could not.” 

“ I wish 1 could have done more; 1 wish I could have 
shielded you from the annoyances you have been obliged to 
endure,” he answered- “ Should we never meet again — ” 

“ Oh! but we shall meet again,” she interrupted. “ You 
promised Mr. Melborne — ” 

“True, we may so meet casually— once in away; but 
our ordinary paths in life lie far apart. God forever bless 
you, Miss Barrington!” 

The horses started, and the carriage sped on. She drew 
down the blinds and leaned back in an agony of tears — 


64 MR. OLtFTOtt OF BARRIKGTOM. 

tears for the house she was leaving, for the father she had 
lost. Her last thought had been of gratitude to Mr. Clif- 
ton; but she had more cause to be grateful to him than she 
yet knew of. Emotion soon spent itself, and as her eyes 
cleared she saw a bit of crumpled paper lying on her lap, 
which appeared to have fallen from her hand. Mechanic- 
ally she took it np and opened it. It was a bank-note for 
five hundred dollars. 

Mr. Clifton had taken it with him that morning to the 
Barrington estate, with its destined purpose. 

Hazel strained her eyes and gazed at the note — gazed and 
gazed again. Where could it have come from? What 
brought it there? Suddenly the undoubted truth flashed 
upon her. Mr. Clifton had left it in her hand. 

Her cheeks burned, her fingers trembled, her angry spirit 
rose up in arms. In that first moment of discovery she 
was ready to resent it as an insult; but when she came to 
remember*the sober facts of the last few days her anger 
subsided into admiration of his wondrous kindness. Did 
he not know that she was without a home to call her own? 
without money — absolutely without money — save what 
would be given her in charity? . 

When Mr. Melborne reached New York, and the hotel 
which the Melbornes were in the habit of stopping, the first 
object his eyes lighted on was his own wife, whom he be- 
lieved to be safe at Mount Pleasant. He inquired the 
cause. 

Mrs. Melborne gave herself little trouble to explain. 
She had been in the city a day or two — could order her 
mourning so much better in person — and Charley did not 
feel well; so she brought him up for a change. 

“ 1 am sorry you came to the city, Dora,” remarked 
Mr. Melborne, after listening. “ Hazel is gone to-day to 
Mount Pelasant.” 

Mrs. Melborne quickly lifted her head. 

“ What’s she gone there for?” 

“ It is the most disgraceful piece of business altogether,” 
returned Mr. Melborne, without replying to the immedi- 
ate question. “William Barrington has died worse off 
than a beggar, and there’s not a dollar for Hazel.” 

“It never was expected there would be much.” 

“But there’s nothing — not a penny; nothing for her 


JIR. CLIETOH OF BARRINGTOH. 65 

own personal expenses. 1 gave her twenty dollars the 
other day, for she was completely destitute.” 

Mrs. Melborne opened her eyes. 

“ Where will she live? What will become of her?” 

“ She must live with us. She — ” 

“ With us!” interrupted Mrs. Melborne, her voice 
almost reaching a scream. “ That she never shall!” 

“ She must, Dora. There is nowhere else for her to 
live. I have been obliged to decide it so, and she has gone 
to Mount Pleasant to-day.” 

Mrs. Melborne grew pale with anger. She rose from 
her seat and confronted her husband, the table being be- 
tween them. 

“ Listen, Ray; 1 will not have Hazel Barrington under 
my roof. I hate her! How could you be cajoled into 
sanctioning such a thing?” 

I was not cajoled, and my sanction was not asked,” 
he coldly replied. “ 1 proposed it. Where else is she to 

C6 1 don't care where,” was the obstinate retort. 
‘ c Never with us.” 

“ She is at Mount Pleasant now — gone to it as her home, 
and even yon, when you return, will scarcely venture to 
turn her out again into the world. She will not trouble 
you long,” carelessly continued Mr. Melborne. “ One so 
lovely as Hazel will be sure to marry early; and she ap- 
pears as gentle and sweet-tempered a girl as I ever saw; so 
whence can arise your dislike for her? I don't pretend to 
guess. Many a man will be too ready to forget her want 
of fortune for the sake of her sweet face.” 

“ She shall marry the first who asks her,” snapped the 
angry lady. “ I'll take care of that!” 


CHAPTER XL 

Hazel had been in her new home about ten days when 
Mr. and Mrs. Melborne arrived at Mount Pleasant. Mr. 
Melborne welcomed Hazel, and Mrs. Melborne also, after . 
a fashion; but her manner was so repellent, so insolently 
patronizing that it brought the indignant crimson to 
Hazel's cheeks. And if this was the case at the first meet- 
ing, what do you suppose it must have been as time went 
on? 


66 


MR. CLIFTOtf OF BARRtNGTOK. 


Galling slights, petty vexations, chilling annoyances 
were put upon her, trying her powers of endurance to the 
very length of their tether. She would wring her hands 
when alone, and passionately wish that she could find an- 
other refuge. 

Mr. and Mrs. Melborne had two children, both boys, 
and in February the younger one, always a delicate child, 
died. This somewhat altered their plans. Instead of pro- 
ceeding to New York after Easter, as had been decided 
upon, they would not go till May. In March Mr. Mel- 
borne went to Europe, full of grief for the loss of his boy — 
far greater grief than was experienced by Mrs. Melborne. 

April approached, and with it Easter. To the uncon- 
cealed dismay of Mrs. Melborne, Mrs. St. Clare wrote that 
she required change, and should pass Easter with her at 
Mount Pleasant. Mrs. Melborne would have given her 
diamonds to have got out of it, but there was no escape. 
On a Monday in Passion Week the old lady arrived, and 
with her Captain Redmond St. Clare. They had no other 
guests. Things went on pretty smoothly till Good Friday. 

On Good Friday afternoon Hazel strolled out with little 
Charley Melborne. Captain St. Clare joined them, and 
they never came in till nearly dinner time, when the three 
entered together, Mrs. Melborne doing penance all the 
time and nursing her rage against Hazel; for Mrs. St. 
Clare kept her in-doors. There was barely time to dress 
for dinner, and Hazel went straight to her room. Her 
dress was off, her dressing-gown on. Eno, her maid, was 
busy with her hair, and Charley chattering at her knee, 
when the door was opened and Mrs. Melborne entered . 

“ Where have you been?” demanded she, shaking with 
passion. 

Hazel knew the signs. 

“ Strolling about in the shrubberies and grounds,” an- 
swered Hazel. 

“ How dare you disgrace yourself?” 

“ I do not understand you,” said Hazel, her heart be- 
ginning to beat unpleasantly. “ Eno, you are pulling my 
hair.” 

.When women liable to intemperate fits of passion give 
rein to them they neither know nor care what they 
say. Mrs. Melborne broke into a torrent of reproach and 
abuse most degrading and unjustifiable. 


ME. CLIFTON - OF EAKBINGTON. 


67 


“Is it not sufficient that you are allowed an asylum in 
my house, but you must also disgrace it? Three hours 
have you been hiding yourself with Redmond St. Clare! 
You have done nothing but flirt with him from the mo- 
ment he came; you did nothing else at Christmas.” 

The attack was longer and broader, but that was the 
substance of it, and Hazel was goaded to resistance, to 
anger little less than that of Mrs. Melborne. This! — and 
before her maid, to be thus insultingly accused in the 
other’s mad jealousy! 

Hazel tossed her hair from the hands of Eno, rose up 
and confronted her accuser, constraining her voice to calm- 
ness. 

“ 1 do not flirt,” she said. “ I have never flirted. I 
leave that ’ 9 — and she could not wholly suppress in tone 
the scorn she felt — “ to married women; though it seems 
to me that it is a fault less venal in them than in single 
ones. There is but one inmate of this house who flirts, so 
far as 1 have seen since 1 have lived in it. Is it you or I, 
Mrs. Melborne?’ 

The home truth told on her. She turned white with 
rage, forgot her manners, and, raising her right hand, 
struck Hazel a stinging blow upon the cheek. Confused 
and terrified. Hazel stood in pain, and before she could 
speak or act she received a blow on the other cheek. 
Hazel shivered as with a sudden chill, and cried out, a 
sharp, quick cry, covered her outraged face, and sunk 
down upon the dressing-chair. Eno threw up her hands 
in dismay, and little Charley could not have burst into a 
louder roar had he been beaten himself. The boy — he was 
of a sensitive nature — was frightened. Mrs. Melborne 
finished up the scene by boxing Charley’s ears for his noise, 
jerked him out of the room, and told him he was a mon- 
key. 

Hazel lay through the long night, weeping tears of anguish 
and indignation. She could not remain at Mount Pleasant 
— who would, after so great an outrage? Yet where was 
she to go? Fifty times in the course of the night did she 
wish she was laid beside her father, for her feelings obtained 
the mastery of her reason. In the calm moments she would 
have shrunk from the idea of death, as the young and 
healthy must do. 

She rose on Saturday morning weak and languid — the 


68 MU. CLIFTOH OF BARRINGTOH. 

effects of the night of grief— and Eno brought her breakfast 
up. Charley stole into the room afterward; he was at- 
tached to her in a remarkable degree. 

4 4 Mamma is going out/* he exclaimed, in course of the 
morning. 44 Look, Hazel.** 

Hazel went to the window. Mrs. Mel borne was in the 
pony-carriage, Redmond St. Clare driving. 

44 We can go down now, Hazel; nobody will be there.** 

She descended, and went down with the child; but 
scarcely were they in the drawing-room when a servant en- 
tered with a card. 

44 A gentleman, Miss Hazel, wishes to see you.** 

44 To see me?** returned Hazel, in surprise, 44 or Mrs. 
Melborne?** 

44 He asked for you, miss.** 

She took up the card, 44 Mr. Clifton. Oh!** she uttered, 
in a tone of joyful surprise. 44 Show him in.** 

The greatest events of our lives come to us without warn- 
ing. A very simple occurrence it appeared to Mr. Clifton, 
this journey, and yet it was destined to lead to events that 
would end only with his own life. 

Mr. Clifton entered, unaffected and gentlemanly as ever, 
with his noble form, his attractive face, and his drooping 
eyelids. She advanced to meet him, holding out her hand, 
her countennce betraying her pleasure. 

44 This is indeed unexpected!** she exclaimed. 44 How 
very pleased 1 am to see you.** 

44 Business brought me yesterday to Mount Pleasant. I 
could not leave it again without calling on you. I hear 
that Mr. Melborne is absent. ** 

44 He is in Europe,** she rejoined. 44 1 said we should be 
sure to meet again. l)o you remember?** 

She, also, remembered something — the five hundred dol- 
lar note — and what she was saying faltered on her tongue. 
Confused, indeed, grew she; for, alas! she had changed and 
partly sp<5*it it. How was it possible to ask Mrs. Melborne 
for money? and Mr. Melborne was nearly always absent. 

Mr. Clifton saw her embarrassment, though he may not 
have detected its cause. 

44 What a fine boy!** exclaimed he, looking at the child. 

44 It is Charley Melborne,** said Hazel. 

44 A truthful, earnest spirit, I am sure. How old are 
you, my little man?** 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 69 

‘ I am six, sir; and my brother was four.” 

Hazel bent over the child — an excuse to cover her per- 
plexity. 

44 You do not know this gentleman, Charley. It is Mr. 
Clifton, and he has been very kind to me.” 

The child turned his thoughtful eyes on Mr. Clifton, 
apparently studying his countenance. 

44 I shall like you, sir, if you are kind to Hazel. Are 
you kind to her?” 

44 Very — very kind,” murmured Hazel, leaving Charley 
and turning to Mr. Clifton, but not looking at him. 44 1 
don't know what tojsay. I ought to thank you; I did not 
intend to use the — to use it; but I — 1 — ” 

44 Hush!” he interrupted, laughing at her confusion. 
44 1 do not know what you are talking of. I have a great 
misfortune to break to you, Miss Barrington. ” 

Somewhat aroused from her own thoughts she lifted her 
eyes and her glowing cheeks. 

44 Two of your fish are dead — the gold ones.” 

44 Are they?” 

“I believe it was the frost that killed them. I don't 
know what else it could have been. You may remember 
those bitter days we had in January; they died then.” 

44 You are very good to take care of them all this while. 
How is the Barrington estate looking? — dear Barrington 
estate! Is it occupied?” 

44 Not yet. 1 have spent some money on it, and it repays 
the outlay.” 

The excitement of his arrival had worn off, and she was 
looking herself again, pale and sad. He could not help 
observing that she was changed. # 

44 1 can not expect to look as well at Mount Pleasant as 
I did at the Barrington estate. ” 

44 1 trust it is a happy home to you?” said Mr. Clifton, 
speaking upon impulse. 

She glanced up at him, a look that he would never for- 
get. 

44 It is a miserable home, and I can not remain in it. I 
have been awake all night, thinking where I can go, but I 
can not tell; I have not a friend.” 

Never let people talk secrets before children, for be as- 
sured that they comprehend a great deal more than is ex- 
pedient. The saying that 44 little pitchers have big ears ” is 


70 


ME. CLIFTOM OF BAEEINGTOM. 


wonderfully true. Little Charley held his head up to Mr. 
Clifton: 

“ Hazel told me this morning that she should go away 
from us. Shall I tell you why? Mamma beat her yester- 
day when she was angry. ” 

“ Be quiet, Charley,” interrupted Hazel, her face in a 
flame. 

“ Two great slaps upon her cheeks,” continued the 
child, “ and Hazel cried so, and I screamed, and then 
mamma hit me. But boys are made to be hit; nurse said 
so. Eno came into the nursery when we were at tea, and 
told nurse about it. She says Hazel’s too good-looking, 
and that’s why mamma — ” 

Hazel stopped the child’s tongue, rang a peal of the bell, 
and marched him to the door, dispatching him to the 
nursery by the servant who answered it. 

Mr. Clifton’s eyes were full of indignant sympathy. 

“ Can this be true?” he asked, in a low tone, when she 
returned to him. “You do indeed want a friend.” 

“ 1 must bear my lot,” she replied, obeying the impulse 
which prompted her to confide in Mr. Clifton; “ at least, 
till Mr. Melborne returns.” 

“ And then?” 

“ I really do not know,” she said, the rebellious tears 
rising faster than she could choke them down. “ He has 
no other home to offer me; but with Mrs. Melborne I can 
not and will not remain. She would break my heart, as 
she has already well-nigh broken my spirit. 1 have not 
deserved it from her. ” 

“ No, I am sure you have not,” he warmly answered. 
“ I wish I could help you. What can I do?” 

“You can do nothing,” she said. “What can any one 
do?” 

“I wish I could help you,” he repeated. “ Barrington 
was not, take it for all in all, a pleasant home to you, but 
it seems you changed for the worse when you left.” 

“ Not a pleasant home?” she echoed, its reminiscences 
appearing delightful in that moment, for it must be remem- 
bered that all things are estimated by comparison. “ In- 
deed it was. I may never have so pleasant a one again. 
Oh, Mr. Clifton, do not disparage Barrington to me! 
Mould that I could awake and find the last few months a 
hideous dream ! — that I could find my dear father alive 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON". 71 

again! — that we were still living peacefully on the Barring- 
ton estate. It would be a very Eden to me now. ” 

What was Mr. Clifton about to say? What emotion was 
it that agitated his countenance, impeded his breath, and 
dyed his face blood red? His better genius was surely not 
watching over him now, or those words had never been 
spoken. 

“ There is but one way,” he began, taking her hand and 
nervously playing with it, probably unconscious that he did 
so; “ and that way — I may not presume, perhaps, to point 
it out.” 

She looked at him, and waited for an explanation. 

“ If my words offend you. Miss Barrington, check them 
as their presumption deserves, and pardon me. May 1 — 
dare I — offer you to return to the Barrington estate as its 
mistress?” 

She did not comprehend him in the slightest degree; the 
drift of his meaning never dawned upon her. 

“ Return to the Barrington estate as its mistress?” she 
repeated. 

“ As my wife!” 

No possibility of misunderstanding him now, and the 
shock and surprise were great. 

She had stood thereby Mr. Clifton's side, conversing con- 
fidentially with him, esteeming him greatly, feeling as if he 
was her truest friend on earth, clinging to him in her heart 
as to a powerful haven of refuge, loving him almost as she 
would love a brother, suffering her hand to remain in his. 
But to be his wife! The idea had never presented itself to 
her in any shape until this moment, and her mind's first 
emotion was one of opposition, her first movement to ex- 
press it, as she essayed to withdraw herself and her hand 
away from him. 

But not so. Mr. Clifton did not suffer it. He not only 
retained that hand, but took the other also, and spoke, now 
the ice was broken, eloquent words of love. Not unmean- 
ing words of rhapsody, about hearts and darts and dying 
for her, such as somebody else might have given utterance 
to, but earnest-hearted words of deep tenderness, calculated 
to win upon the mind's good sense as well as upon the ear 
and heart; and it may be that, had her imagination not 
been filled up with that “ somebody else,” she would have 
said “ Yes ” then and there. 


72 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

They were suddenly interrupted. Mrs. Melborne entered 
and took in the scene at a glance : Mr. Clifton’s bent atti- 
tude of devotion, his imprisonment of the hands, and Hazel’s 
perplexed and blushing countenance. She threw up her 
head and her little inquisitive nose,, and stopped short on 
the carpet, her freezing looks demanded an explanation 
as plainly as looks can do it. Mr. Clifton turned to her, 
and, by way of sparing Hazel, proceeded to introduce him- 
self. Hazel had just presence of mind left to name her 
“ Mrs. Melborne.” 

“ 1 am sorry that Mr. Melborne, to whom I have the 
honor of being known, should be absent,” he said, “lam 
Mr. Clifton.” 

“ 1 have heard of you,” replied Mrs. Melborne, scanning 
his good looks, and feeling cross that his homage should be 
given where she saw it was given; “ but I had not heard 
that you and Hazel Barrington were on the extraordinary 
terms of intimacy that — that—” 

“ Madame,” he interrupted, as he handed a chair ttf her 
and took another himself, “ we have never yet been on 
terms of intimacy. I was begging Miss Barrington to grant 
that we might be. I was asking her to become my wife.” 

The avowal Was a shower of incense to Mrs. Melborne, 
and her ill-humor melted into sunshine. It was a solution 
to her great difficulty, a loop-hole by which she might get 
rid of her, the hated Hazel. A flush of gratification light- 
ed her face, and she became full of graciousness to Mr. 
Clifton. 

“ How very grateful Hazel must feel to you,” quoth 
she; “ I speak openly, because 1 know that you were cog- 
nizant of the unprotected state in which she was left by her 
father’s improvidence, putting marriage for her, at any 
rate, a high marriage, nearly out of the question. The 
Barrington estate is a beautiful place, I have heard.” 

“ For its size. It is not large,” replied Mr. Clifton, as 
he rose, for Hazel had also risen and was coming forward. 

“ And pray, what is Hazel’s answer?” quickly asked Mrs. 
Melborne, turning to her. 

Not to her did Hazel condescend to give an answer; but 
she approached Mr. Clifton and spoke in a low tone. 

“ Will you give me a few hours for consideration?” 

“ I am only too happy that you should ask for time to 
consider, for it speaks to me of hope,” was his reply, as 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 73 

he opened the door for her to pass out. “ I will be here 
again this afternoon. ” 

It was a perplexing debate that Hazel held with herself 
in the solitude of her room while Mr. Clifton touched uoon 
ways and means to Mrs. Melborne. 

Hazel liked Mr. Clifton much. She experienced pleasure 
in conversing with him; she liked to be with him; in 
short, but for the ill-omened fancy which crept over her 
there would have been danger of her falling in love with 
Mr. Clifton. And oh! to be removed forever from the bit- 
ter dependence on Mrs. Melborne. The Barrington estate 
would, in truth, after that seem what she called it — Eden. 

“ So far it looks favorable,” mentally exclaimed poor 
Hazel; “but there is the other side of the question. It is 
not only that I do not love Mr. Clifton, but I fear 1 do love, 
or very nearly love. Captain St. Clare. I wish he would 
ask me to be his wife — or thatl had never seen him.” 

HazeEs soliloquy was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. 
Melborne and Mrs. St. Clare. What Mrs. Melborne had 
said to the old lady to win her to the cause was best known 
to herself, but she was eloquent in it. They both used 
every possible argument to accept Mr. Clifton, the old lady 
declaring that she had never been introduced to any one 
she was so much taken with (and Mrs. St. Clare was in- 
capable of asserting what was not true); that he was worth 
a dozen empty-headed men of the great world. 

Hazel listened, now swayed one way, now the other; and 
when the afternoon came her head was aching with per- 
plexity. The stumbling-block that she could not get over 
was Redmond St. Clare. She saw Mr. Clifton’s approach 
from her window, and went down to the drawing-room, 
not in the least knowing what her answer was to be. A 
shadowy idea was presenting itself that she would ask him 
for longer time and write her answer. 

In the drawing-room was Redmond St. Clare, and her 
heart beat wildly, which said beating might have con- 
vinced her that she ought not to marry another. 

“ Where have you been hiding yourself?” cried he. 
“ Did you hear of our mishap with the pony-carriage?” 

“No,” was her answer. 

“ I was driving Dora into town. The pony took fright, 
kicked, plunged, and went down upon his knees; she took 
fright in turn, got out, and walked back; so 1 gave the 


74 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


brute some chastisement and a race, and brought him to 
the stables, getting home in time to be introduced to Mr. 
Clifton. He seems an out-and-out good fellow. Hazel, and 
I congratulate you. " 

“ What! 3 ' she uttered, 

“ Don't start. We are all in the family, and Mrs. Mel- 
borne told me. 1 won't betray it abroad. She says the 
Barrington estate is a place to be coveted. I wish you 
happiness." 

“ Thank you," she returned, in a sarcastic tone, though 
her heart beat and her lips quivered. “ You are prema- 
ture in your congratulations, Captain St. Clare." 

“ Am I? Keep my good wishes, then, till the right man 
comes. I am beyond the pale myself, and dare not think 
of entering the happy state," he added, in a pointed tone. 
“ I have indulged dreams of it, like others, but I can not 
afford to indulge them seriously. A poor man, with un- 
certain prospects, can only play the butterfly, perhaps to 
his life's end." 

He quitted the room as he spoke. It was impossible for 
Hazel to misunderstand him, but a feeling shot across her 
mind, for the first time, that he was false and heartless. 
One of the servants appeared, showing in Mr. Clifton. 
Nothing false or heartless about him. He closed the door 
and approached her, but she did not speak, and' her lips 
were white and trembling. Mr. Clifton waited. 

“ Well," he said, at length, in a gentle tone, “ have you 
decided to grant my prayer?" 

“ Yes. But — " She could not go on. What with one 
agitation and another, she had difficulty in conquering her 
emotion. 

“ But — 1 was going to tell you — " 

“ Presently," he whispered, leading her to a sofa; “ we 
can both afford to wait now." 

“ Oh, Hazel, you have made me very happy!" 

“ I ought to tell you — I must tell you," she began again, 
in the midst of hysterical tears, “ though I have said 
‘ yes ' to your proposal, I do not — yet — It has come upon 
me by surprise," she stammered. “ I like you very much, 
I esteem and respect you, but I do not yet love you." 

“ 1 should wonder if you did. But you will let me earn 
your love. Hazel?" 

“ Oh, yes!" she earnestly answered. 


A 

MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 75 

He drew her close to him, bent his face, and took from 
her lips his first kiss. Hazel was passive; she supposed he 
had gained the right to do so. 

“ My dearest, it is all 1 ask.” 

Mr. Clifton stayed over the following day, and before he 
departed in the evening arrangements had been discussed. 
The marriage was to take place immediately. All con- 
cerned had a motive for hurrying it on. Mr. Clifton was 
anxious that the fair flower should be his; Hazel was sick 
of Mount Pleasant, sick of some of the people in it; Mrs. 
Melborne was sick of Hazel. In less than a month it was 
to be, and Captain St. Clare sneered over the “indecent 
haste.” Mr. Clifton wrote to Mr. Melborne. Mrs. Mel- 
borne announced that she should present Hazel with the 
trousseau , and wrote to New York to order it. It is a posi- 
tive fact that when he was taking leave of Hazel she fairly 
clung to him. 

“ 1 wish I could take you now, my darling! 1 can not 
bear to leave you here.” 

“ 1 wish you could!” she sighed. “ You have only seen 
the sunny side of Mrs. Melborne. ” 


CHAPTER XII. 

The sensations of Mr. Clifton when he returned to Bar- 
rington were very much like those of a college boy who 
knows he has been in mischief and dreads detection. Al- 
ways open as to his own affairs, for he had nothing to con- 
ceal, he yet deemed it expedient to dissemble now. He 
felt that his sister would be bitter at the prospect of his mar- 
rying. Instinct had taught him that in years past, and he 
believed that of all women, the most objectionable to her 
would be Hazel; for Miss Clifton looked to the useful, and 
had neither sympathy nor admiration for the beautiful. 
He was not sure but she might be capable of endeavoring 
to frustrate the marriage, should news of it reach her ears, 
and her indomitable will had carried many strange things 
in her life; therefore, you will not blame Mr. Clifton for 
observing entire reticence as to his future plans. 

A family by the name of Mead had been about taking 
the Barrington estate. They wished to rent it, furnished, 
for three years. Upon some of the minor arrangements 


?6 


% 

ME. CLIFTON - OF BABKINGTON. 

they and Mr. Clifton were opposed; but the latter declined 
to give way. During hjs absence at Mount Pleasant news 
had arrived from them that they acceded to all his terms, 
and would enter upon the Barrington estate as soon as con- 
venient. 

Miss Clifton was full of congratulations. It was off their 
hands, she said; but the first letter Mr. Clifton wrote was 
to decline them. He did not tell this to his sister. The 
final touches to the house were given preparatory to the 
reception of its inhabitants, three maid and two men-serv- 
ants hired and sent there until the family should arrive. 

One evening, three weeks subsequent to Mr. Clifton’s 
visit to Mount Pleasant, Lulu Osborne called on Miss Clif- 
ton, and found them going to dinner much earlier than 
usual. 

“ We dine earlier,” said Miss Clifton, “ otherwise Harold 
would not have dined. ” 

4 4 1 am as well without dinner,” he said. 44 I have a 
mass of business to get through yet.” 

44 You are not so well without it,” said Fannie, “ and 1 
don’t choose that you should go without it. Take off your 
hat. Lulu. He does things like nobody else; he is off to 
Mount Pleasant to-morrow, and never could open his lips 
till just now that he w.as going.” 

44 Is that invalid gentleman still laid up at Mount 
Pleasant?” asked Lulu. 

44 He is there still,” said Mr. Clifton. 

Lulu sat down to the dinner-table, though protesting 
that she ought not to remain, for she had told her mamma 
she should be home to dinner. Miss Clifton interrupted 
what she was saying by telling her brother she should go 
presently and pack his things. 

44 Oh, no,” returned he, with alarming quickness. 44 1 
will pack them myself, thank you. John, you can put the 
gripsack in my room — the large one.” 

44 The large one!” echoed Miss Clifton, who could never 
let anything pass without her interference. 44 Why, it’s as 
big as a house! What in the world can you want drag- 
ging that with you?” 

44 1 have papers and things to take besides clothes.” 

44 1 am sure I could pack all your things in a small one,” 
persisted Fannie. 44 I’ll — You only tell me what you want 
put in. Take the small gripsack to Mr. Clifton’s room. ” 


Mf£. ClIFTOtf OV BAKRIiTGTO^f. 77 

Mr. Clifton glanced at John, and John glanced back 
again with an imperceptible nod. 

“ 1 prefer to pack my things myself, Fannie. What have 
you done now?” 

“ A stupid trick,” she answered. For in fidgeting with 
a knife Fannie had cut her finger. 44 Have you any court- 
plaster, Harold?” 

He opened his pocket-book and laid it on the table, while 
he took from it some black plaster. 

Miss Clifton’s inquisitive eyes caught sight of a letter 
lying there. She stretched out her hand, caught it up, and 
opened it. 

“ Whom is this from? It is a lady’s handwriting.” 

Mr. Clifton laid his hand flat upon it, as if to hide it from 
view. 

“ Excuse me, Fannie, that is a private letter.” 

“ Private nonsense!” retorted Miss Clifton. “Iam sure 
you get no letters that I may not read. It bears yester- 
day’s postmark. ” 

“ Oblige me with the letter,” he returned; and Miss 
Clifton, in her astonishment at the calmly authoritative 
tone, yielded it. 

“ Harold, what is the matter with you?” 

4 4 Nothing,” answered he, shutting the letter in the 
pocket-book and returning it to his pocket, leaving out the 
plaster for Fannie’s benefit. 44 It’s not fair to look into a 
man’s private letters; is it. Lulu?” He laughed good- 
humoredly as he looked at Lulu. But she had seen with 
surprise that a deep flush of emotion had risen to his face 
— he, so calm a man! Fannie was not one to be put down 
easily, and she returned to the charge. 

44 Harold, if ever I saw the Barrington crest, it is on the 
seal of that letter. ” 

44 Whether the Barrington crest is on the letter or not, 
the contents of it were written for my eyes alone,” he re- 
joined. And somehow Miss Clifton did not like the firm 
tone. 

Lulu broke the silence. 

44 Shall you call on the Melbornes this time?” 

44 Yes,” he answered. 

44 Do they talk yet of Miss Barrington’s marrying?” 
pursued Lulu. 44 Did you hear anything of it?” 


?8 ME. CLIFTON OF BAEKiNGTON. 

44 I can not charge my memory with all 1 hear or did 
not hear. Lulu. " 

Lulu sprung up the moment the dinner was over. 

4 4 1 don't know what mamma will say to me; and it is 
beginning to grow dark! She will think it is late for me 
to be out alone." 

44 Harold can walk with you," said Fannie. 

44 1 don't know that," said he, in his plain, open way. 
44 Faber is waiting for me in the office, and 1 have some 
hours' work before me. However, I suppose you won't 
care to put up with John's attendance; so make haste with 
your hat." 

No need to tell Lulu that, when the choice between him 
and John depended on the speed she should make. It was 
a calm, lovely night, very light yet, and they took the field 
way. 

Lulu could not forget Hazel Barrington. She had never 
forgotten her, or the jealous feeling that arose in her heart 
at Mr. Clifton's constant visits to the Barrington estate 
when she inhabited it. She returned to the subject now. 

44 1 asked you, Harold, whether you heard that Miss 
Barrington was likely to marry." 

44 And I answered you. Lulu, that my memory could not 
carry all 1 may have heard." 

44 But did you?" persisted Lulu. 

44 1 believe Miss Barrington is likely to marry." 

Lulu drew a relieved sigh. 

44 Whom?" 

The same amused smile played on his lips. 

44 Do you suppose I could put premature questions? 1 
may be able to tell you more about it after my next return 
from Mount Pleasant. " 

44 Do try and find out," said she. 44 Perhaps it is to 
Mr. Charles Melborne. Who is it says that more mar- 
riages arise from habitual association than — " 

She stopped, for Mr. Clifton had turned his eyes upon 
her, and was laughing. 

44 You are a clever guesser, Lulu; Charles Melborne is a 
little fellow five or six years old." 

44 Oh!" returned Lulu, considerably discomfited. 

“ And the nicest child — generous-hearted, earnest- 
spirited. Should 1 have children of my own," he added, 
44 1 could wish them to be like Charley Melborne." 


MR. CLIFTON OP BARRiNGTOtf. 70 

44 A very important confession," gayly returned Lulu, 
4 4 after contriving to impress Barrington with the convic- 
tion that you were to be an old bachelor. " 

44 1 don't know that 1 ever promised Barrington any- 
thing of the sort/' said Mr. Clifton. 

Lulu laughed now. 

44 1 suppose Barrington judges by appearances when a 
man owns to thirty years." 

44 Which 1 do not," said Mr. Clifton, considerably dam- 
aging the grass and Lulu's parasol, which he had taken 
possession of. 44 1 may be an old married man before I 
am thirty; the chances are that I shall be." 

44 Then you must have fixed upon your wife," she quick- 
ly cried. 

44 1 do not say 1 have not. Lulu. All in good time to 
proclaim it." 

Lulu withdrew her arm from Mr. Clifton's under pre- 
tense of fixing her hat. Her heart was beating, her whole 
frame trembling, and she feared he might detect her emo- 
tion. She never thought he could allude to any one but 
herself. Poor Lulu! 

44 How flu§hed you look. Lulu!" he exclaimed. 44 Have 
I walked too fast?" 

She seemed not to hear. Then she took his arm again, 
and they walked on, Mr. Clifton striking the grass with 
the parasol more industriously than ever. Another min- 
ute, and the handle was in two. 

44 1 thought you would do it," said Lulu, while he was 
regarding the parasol with ludicrous dismay. 44 Never 
mind ; it is an old one. " 

“I will bring you another to replace it. What is the 
color? Brown. 1 won't forget Hold the relics a min- 
ute, Lulu." - 

He put the pieces in her hand, and taking out a note- 
case, made a note in pencil. 

44 What's that for?" she inquired. 

He held it close to her eyes, that she might discern what 
he had written: 

44 Brown parasol. L. 0." 

44 A reminder for me. Lulu, in case I forget." 

Lulu's eyes detected another item or two already en- 
tered in the note-case: 44 Piano," 44 Plate." 

44 1 got down the things as they occur to me that I must 


80 ME. CLIPTOX OP BARRIKGTOPT. 

get in New York,” he explained. “ Otherwise I should 
forget half.” 

“ In New York! I thought you were going in an oppo- 
site direction — to Mount Pleasant.” 

It was a slip of the tongue, but Mr. Clifton repaired it. 

“ I may probably have to visit New York, as well as 
Mount Pleasant. How bright the moon looks rising there. 
Lulu!” 

“ So bright — that or the sky — that I saw your secrets,” 
answered she. “ Piano! Plate! What can you want with 
either, Harold?” 

“ They are for Barrington,” he quietly replied. 

“Oh! for the Meads;” and her interest in the items was 
gone. 

They turned into the road and soon reached the house. 
Mr. Clifton held the gate open for Lulu. 

“You will come in and say good-night to mamma? She 
was saying to-day what a stranger you have made of your- 
self lately. ” 

“ I have been busy, and I really have not the time to- 
night. You must remember me to her instead.” 

He closed the gate again. But Lulu leaned over it, un- 
willing to let him go. 

“ Shall you be away a week?” 

“ 1 dare say 1 may. Here, take the wreck of the para- 
sol, Lulu; I was about to carry it off with me. I can buy 
you a new one without stealing the old one.” 

“Harold, I have long wished to ask you something,” 
said she, in a tone of suppressed agitation, as she took the 
pieces and flung them on the path by the thick trees. 
“You will not deem me foolish?” 

“ What is it?” 

“ When you gave me the gold chain and locket a year 
ago — you remember?” 

“ Yes— well?” 

“ I put some of that hair of Tom’s in it, and some of 
mamma’s and Mary’s, and there is room for more, you 
see.” 

She held it out to him as she spoke, for she always wore 
it round her neck attached to the chain. 

“ I can’t see well by this light, Lulu. If there is room 
for more, what of it?” 


MR* CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 


81 


“ 1 like to think that I possess a memento of my best 
friends, or of those who were dear to me. I wish you to 
give me a little bit of your hair to put with the rest — as it 
was you who gave me the locket. ” 

“ My hair!” returned Mr. Clifton, in a tone of as much 
astonishment as if she had asked for his head. 44 What 
good would that do you. Lulu?” 

Her face flushed painfully, her heart beat. 

“I like to have a remembrance of friends 1 — I care 
for,” she stammered — “ nothing more, Harold.” 

He detected neither, the emotion nor depth of feeling — 
the kind of feeling that had prompted the request, and he 
met it with good-natured ridicule. 

44 What a pity you did not tell me yesterday. Lulu! 1 
had my hair cut and might have sent you the snippings. 
Don't be a goose, child! 1 can't stop a minute longer. 
Good -night!” 

He hastened away with quick strides, and Lulu covered 
her face with her hands. 

4 4 What have I done — what have I done?” she reiterat- 
ed aloud. 44 Is it in his nature to be thus indifferent — 
matter-of-fact? Has he no sentiment? But it will come. 
Oh! the bliss this night has brought forth. There was 
truth in his tone, beneath its vein of mockery, when he 
spoke of his chosen wife. 1 need not go far to guess who it 
is — he has told no one else, and he pays attention to no one 
but me. Harold, when once 1 am your wife you shall 
know how fondly 1 love you; you can not know till then.” 

She lifted her fair young face, beautiful in its radiance, 
and gazed at the deepening moonlight, then turned away 
and pursued her path up the garden walk, unconscious 
that something wearing a bonnet pushed its head beyond 
the trees to steal a look after her. Lulu would have said 
less had she divined there was a third party to the inter- 
view. 

It was three mornings after the departure of Mr. Clifton 
that Mr. Faber appeared before Miss Clifton and handed 
her a letter, saying it was from Mr. Clifton. 

44 Why, what has he got to write to me about?” 

She opened the letter, glanced at it, and sunk down on 
a chair, more overcome, more stupefied than she had felt in 
her whole life. 


82 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“Mount Pleasant, May 1 st, 18—. 

“My dear Fannie,— I was married this morning to 
Hazel Barrington, and hasten briefly to acquaint you with 
the fact. 1 will write you more fully to-morrow or next 
day, and explain all things. 

“ Ever your affectionate brother, 

“Harold Clifton.” 

“It is a hoax!” were the first guttural sounds that 
escaped from Miss Clifton’s throat when speech came to 
her. 

Mr. Faber only stood like a stone image. 

“ It is a hoax, 1 say!” raved Miss Clifton. “ What are 
you standing there for, like a gander on one leg?” she re- 
iterated, venting her anger upon the unoffending man. 
“ Is it a hoax or not?” 

“ I am overdone with amazement. Miss Clifton. It is 
not a hoax. I have had a letter, too. ” 

“ It can’t be true — it can’t be true! He had no more 
thought of being married when he left here, three days 
ago, than 1 have.” 

“ How can we tell that, Miss Clifton? How are we to 
know he did not go to be married? I fancy he did.” 

“Go to be married!” shrieked Miss Clifton, in a pas- 
sion. “ He would not be such a fool!” 

“ He has sent this to be put in the newspapers,” said 
Mr. Faber, holding forth a scrap of paper. “ He is mar- 
ried, sure enough. ” 

Miss Clifton took it and held it before her; her hand was 
cold as ice, and shook as if with palsy. 

“ Married: On the first inst., at Mount Pleasant, by the 
Keverend Astor Gilbert, Harold Clifton to Hazel Barring- 
ton, only child of the late William Barrington, of the Bar- 
rington estate.” 

Miss Clifton tore the paper to atoms and scattered it. 
Mr. Faber afterward made copies from memory, and sent 
them to the journal offices. 

“ I will never forgive him,” she deliberately uttered, 
“ and I will never forgive or tolerate her. The senseless 
idiot, to go and marry William Barrington’s expensive 
(laughter! A thing who goes to balls in flowers and a train 
streaming out three yards behind her!” 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 83 

“ He is not an idiot. Miss Clifton.” 

“ He is worse; he is a wicked madman!” she retorted, 
in a midway state between rage and tears. “He must 
have been stark, staring mad to go and do it! And had 
I gathered an inkling of it, I would have taken out a com- 
mitment of lunacy against him. Ay, you may stare, old 
Faber, but I would, as truly as 1 hope to have my sins 
forgiven. Where are they to live?” 

“ I expect they will live on the Barrington estate.” 

“ What?” screamed Miss Clifton. “ Live on the Bar- 
rington estate with the Meads? You are going mad, too, 
I think.” 

“ The negotiations with the Meads are off. Miss Clifton. 
When Mr. Clifton returned from Mount Pleasant, at 
Easter, he wrote to decline them. 1 saw the copy of the 
letter. 1 expect he had settled matters then with Miss 
Barrington, and had decided to keep the Barrington estate 
for himself. ” 

Miss Clifton's mouth had opened with consternation. 
Recovering partially, she rose from her seat, and drawing 
herself to her full and majestic height, she advanced be- 
hind the astounded gentleman, seized the collar of his coat 
with both hands, and shook him for several minutes. 
Poor Faber, who, short and slight, was as a puppet in her 
hands, thought his breath had gone forever. 

“ I would have had out lunacy papers for you also, you 
sly villain! You are in the plot. You have been aiding 
and abetting him. You knew as much of it as he did.” 

“ I declare solemnly to the God that made me, 1 
did not! I am as innocent as a baby. When I got the 
letter now in the office you might have knocked me down 
with a feather.” 

“ What has he done it for?— an expensive girl without a 
dollar! 1 hope his folly will come home to him!” was the 
wrathful rejoinder. 

“ Heaven forbid!” cried old Faber. 

She sat down as soon as she was alone, and her face as- 
sumed a strong, rigid look. Her hands fell upon her knees, 
and Mr. Clifton's letter dropped to the ground. After 
awhile her features began to work, and she nodded her 
head; and by and by she rose, attired herself for the street, 
and started for Judge Osborne's. She felt that the news 
which would be poured out to Barrington before the day 


84 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

was over reflected a slight upon herself — her much-loved 
brother had forsaken her, to take to himself one nearer 
and dearer, and had done it in dissimulation; therefore 
she herself would be the first to proclaim it far and wide. 

Lulu was at the window in the usual sitting-room as 
Miss Clifton entered the gate. A grim smile, in spite of 
her enraged feelings, crossed that lady’s lips when she 
thought of the blow about to be dealt out to Lulu — to her 
hopes of becoming his wife. Very clearly had she pene- 
trated to the love of that young lady for Harold. 

“ What brings Fannie here?” thought Lulu, who was 
looking very pretty in her summer attire; for the weather 
was unusually warm, and she had assumed it. “ How are 
you?” she said, leaning from the window. ‘‘Would you 
believe it? the warm day has actually tempted mamma 
out; papa is driving her to Hillsdale. Come in; the hall 
door is open.” 

Miss Clifton came in without answering, and seating her- 
self upon a chair, emitted a few dismal groans by way of 
preliminary. 

Lulu turned to her quickly. “ Are you ill? Has any- 
thing happened to you?” 

“ Happened me? You may say that!” ejaculated Miss 
Clifton, in wrath. “ It has turned my heart and my feel- 
ings inside out. What did you say? A glass of wine? 
Nonsense! don’t talk of wine to me. A heavy misfortune 
has befallen us, Lulu. Harold — 

“ Upon Harold?” interrupted Lulu, in her quick alarm. 
“Oh! some accident has happened to him — to the railway 
train! Perhaps he — he — has got his leg broken?” 

“I wish in my heart he had!” warmly returned Miss 
Clifton. “ He and his legs are all right, more’s the pity! 
It is worse than that, Lulu!” 

Lulu ran over various disasters in her mind, arid know- 
ing the bent of Miss Clifton’s disposition, began to refer to 
some pecuniary loss. 

“Perhaps it is about the Barrington estate,” hazarded 
she. “ The Meads may not be coming to it.” 

“ No, they are not coming to it,” was the tart retort; 
“ somebody else is, though. My wise brother Harold has 
gone and made a fool of himself. Lulu, and now is coming 
home to live on the Barrington estate.” 

Though there was much that was unintelligible to Lulu 


MR. CLIFTOX OF BARRINGTOX. 85 

in this, she could not suppress the flush of gratification that 
rose to her cheek and dyed it with blushes. 

“ You are going to be taken down a notch or two, my 
lady,” thought the clear-sighted Miss Clifton. “ The 
news fell upon me this morning like a thunder-bolt,” she 
said aloud. “ Old Faber brought it to me, and I shook 
him for his pains.” 

“ Shook old Faber?” said the wondering Lulu. 

“ 1 shook him till my arms ached. He won't forget it 
in a hurry.” 

Lulu sat, all amazement, without the faintest idea of . 
what Fannie could mean. 

“You remember that child, William Barrington's daugh- 
ter? 1 think I see her now. All very well for her, for what 
she is, but not for us.” 

“ What of her?” uttered Lulu. 

“ Harold has married her!” 

In spite of Lulu's full consciousness that she was before 
the penetrating eyes of Miss Clifton, and in spite of her 
own efforts for calmness, her features turned to a ghastly 
whiteness. But, like Miss Clifton, she at first took refuge 
in disbelief. 

“ It is not true, Fannie!” 

“It is quite true. They were married yesterday at 
Mount Pleasant. Had I known it then, though the 
church ceremony had passed, I should have tried to part 
them. But yesterday was one thing, and to-day is 
another; and of course nothing can be done now.” 

“ Excuse me an instant,” gasped Lulu, in a low tone; 
“ I forgot to give an order mamma left for the servants.” 

An order for the servants! She swiftly passed upstairs 
to her own room, and flung herself down on the floor in 
utter anguish. The past had cleared itself of its mists; 
the scales that were before Lulu's eyes had fallen from 
them. She saw now that while she had cherished false 
and delusive hopes in her almost idolatrous passion for 
Harold Clifton, she had never been cared for by him. 
Even the previous night she had lain awake some of its 
hours, indulging dreams of the sweetest fantasy — and that 
was the night of his wedding-day! With a sharp wail of 
despair Lulu flimg her arms up and closed her aching 
eyes. She knew that from that hour her life's sunshine 
had departed. 


86 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

The cry had been louder than she knew, and one of the 
maids, who was outside the door, opened it gently and 
looked in. There lay Lulu, and there was no mistaking 
that she lay in dire anguish — not of body, but of mind. 
The servant quickly closed the door. 

Lulu heard the click of the latch, and it recalled her to 
herself — recalled her to the necessity for outwardly sur- 
mounting the distress at the present moment. She rose 
up and drank a glass of water, mechanically smoothed her 
hair and her brow, so contracted with pain, and forced her 
manner to calmness. 

“ Married to another! — married to another!” she moaned, 
as she went down the stairs; “and that other she! Oh, 
fortitude! oh, dissimulation! at least come to my aid be- 
fore his sister!” 

There was actually a smile on her face as she entered 
the room. 

Miss Clifton broke open her grievance again without de- 
lay. 

“ 1 never thought he would marry; I have warned him 
against it ever since he was a boy.” 

“ It is an unsuitable match,” said Lulu. 

“ It is just as suitable as Beauty and the Beast in the 
children’s story. She, a high-born beauty, brought up to 
revel in expense, in jewels, in feasts, in show; and he, a— a 
— a— dull bear of a lawyer, like the Beast in the tale.” 

Had Lulu been less miserable, she would have laughed 
outright. 

“ I have taken my resolution. I go to the Barrington 
estate to-morrow and discharge those five dandies of serv- 
ants. I was up there on Saturday, and had 1 known then 
that they were Harold’s servants, and not hired for the 
Meads — ” 

Lulu said nothing. 

“ I shall go up and dismiss the lot, and remove myself 
and servants to the Barrington estate, and let my own 
house furnished. Expenses will be high enough with her 
extravagant habits, too high to keep on two households. 
And a fine sort of household Harold would have of it at 
Barrington with that ignorant baby befrilled, and be- 
jeweled, and becurled to direct it!” 

“But will she like that?” 

“ If she does not like it she can lump it,” replied Miss 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


87 


Clifton. . “ And now that I have told you the news, Lulu, 
I am going back, and I would almost as soon have had 
to tell you he was put in his coffin. ” 

“ Are you sure you are not jealous?’ ’ asked Lulu, some 
uncontrollable impulse prompting her to say it. 

“ Perhaps I am,” returned Miss Clifton, with asperity. 
“ Perhaps, had you brought up a boy as I have brought 
up Harold, and loved nothing else in the world, far or 
near, you would be jealous when you found him discard- 
ing you with contemptuous indifference, and taking a 
young wife to his bosom to be more to him than you had 
been. ” 


CHAPTER XII I. 

Miss Clifton was as good as her word. She quitted 
her own house, and removed to the Barrington estate with 
John and two of her maid-servants. In spite of Mr. 
Faber’s grieved remonstrances, she discharged the servants 
whom Mr. Clifton had engaged, all save one man. She 
might have retained one of the maid-servants, for she had 
the sense to remember, in spite of her prejudices, that the 
Barrington estate would require more servants than her 
own house. 

On Friday night, about a month after the wedding, Mr. 
Clifton and his wife came home. They were expected, 
and Miss Clifton went through the hall to receive them, 
and stood on the upper steps between the pillars of the 
arched door. An elegant carriage, with four milk-white 
horses, was drawn up. Miss Clifton compressed her lips 
as she scanned it. She was attired in a handsome dark 
silk dress and a new cap; her anger had cooled down in the 
last month, and her strong common sense told her that the 
wiser plan would be to make the best of it. Mr. Clifton 
came up the steps with Hazel. 

“You here, Fannie? That was kind. How are you? 
Hazel, this is my sister. ” 

Hazel put forth her hand, and Miss Clifton condescend- 
ed to touch the tips of her fingers. 

“ I hope you are well?” she jerked out. 

Mr. Clifton left them together, and went back to search 
for some trifle which had been left in the carriage. Miss 
Clifton led the way to a sitting-room. 


88 ME. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTON. 

“ Perhaps you would like to go up and take your things 
off,” she said, in the same jerky tone. 

“ Thank you; I would like to go to my rooms. I do 
not require any dinner. We have dined,” said Hazel. 

“ Then what would you like to take?” 

“ Some tea, if you please; I am very thirsty.” 

“ Tea!” ejaculated Miss Clifton. “ So late as this! 1 
don't know that they have any made. You'd never sleep 
a wink all night if you took tea at this late hour.” 

“Oh! then never mind,” replied Hazel. “It is of no 
consequence. Ho not let me give you any trouble. ” 

Miss Clifton whisked out of the room, upon what errand 
was best known to herself. Meanwhile, Hazel sat down 
and burst into tears and sobs. A chill came over her; it 
did not seem like coming home to the Barrington estate. 
Mr. Clifton entered and witnessed her grief. 

“Hazel!” he uttered in amazement, as he hastened to 
her. “ My darling, what is the matter?” 

“ 1 am tired, I think,” she gently answered; “ and 
coming into the house again made me think of papa. I 
should like to go to my rooms, Harold; but I don't know 
which they are. ” 

Neither did Mr. Clifton know; but Miss Clifton came 
whisking in again, and said: 

“The best rooms. Shall 1 go up with Hazel?” 

Mr. Clifton preferred to go himself, and he held out his 
arm to Hazel. There were no lights, and the rooms looked 
cold and comfortless. 

“ Things seem all sixes and sevens in the house,” re- 
marked Mr. Clifton. “ I fancy the servants must have 
misunderstood my letter, and have not expected us until 
to-morrow night.” 

“ Harold,” she said, “ I do feel very tired, and— and — 
low-spirited. May I remain up here and not go down again 
to-night?” 

He looked at her and smiled. 

“ May you not go down again to-night? Have you for- 
gotten that you are at last in your own home? A happy 
home I trust it will be, my darling. I will strive to render 
it so.” 

She leaned upon him and sobbed aloud. He tenderly 
bore with her mood, soothing her to composure, gently kiss- 
ing the face he held to him now and then. Oh, his was a 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 89 

true heart! but alas! it was just possible that he might 
miss the way, unless he could emancipate himself from his 
sister's thralldom. Hazel did not love him; of that she was 
conscious; but her deep and earnest hope by night and day 
was that she might learn to love him, for she knew that he 
deserved it. 

They heard Eno's voice, and Hazel turned, poured out 
some water, and began dashing it over her face and eyes. 
She did not care that Eno, who was haughtily giving orders 
about some particular trunk, should see her grief. 

44 What will you take. Hazel?" asked Mr. Clifton — 
“ some tea?" 

44 No, thank you," replied she, remembering Miss Clif- 
ton's answer. 

44 But you must take something; you complained of thirst 
in the carriage. " 

“ Water will do — will be the best for me, 1 mean. Eno 
can get it for me." 

Mr. Clifton quitted the room, and the lady's-maid assist- 
ed her mistress in sullen silence, her tongue quivering with 
its own rage and wrongs. Eno deemed herself worse used 
than any lady's-maid ever had been yet. From the very 
hour of the wedding her anger had been gathering, for there 
had been no gentleman valet to take care of her during 
the wedding journey. Bad enough! but she came home to 
find that there was no staff of servants at all; no house- 
keeper, no steward, no — as she expressed it — nobody. 
Moreover, she and Miss Clifton had just come to a clash. 
Eno was loftily calling about her in the hall for somebody 
to carry up a small parcel, which contained, in fact, her 
lady's dressing-case, and Miss Clifton had desired her to 
carry it up herself. But that she had learned who the lady 
was, Eno, in her indignation, might have felt inclined to 
throw the dressing-case at her head. 

44 Anything else, Mrs. Clifton?" 

“ No/" replied Hazel; “ you may go." 

Hazel, wrapped in her dressing-gown, her warm slippers 
on, sat with a book; and Eno, wishing her good-night, re- 
tired. Mr. Clifton, meanwhile, had sought his sister. 

“ Fannie," he began, “I do not understand all this. 
I don't see my servants and 1 see yours. Where are mine?" 

4 4 Gone away," said Miss Clifton, in her decisive off-hand 
inanner. 


90 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“Gone away?” responded Mr. Clifton. “What for? 
I believe they were excellent servants. 99 

‘ ‘ Very excellent ! Harold Clifton, how could you go and 
make a fool of yourself? If you must marry, were there 
not plenty of young ladies in your old set — 99 

‘ ‘ Stop,” he interrupted. “ I wrote you a full statement 
of my motives and actions; I concealed nothing that it was 
necessary you should know. I am not disposed to enter 
upon a further discussion of the subject, and you must par- 
don my saying so. Let us return to the topic of the serv- 
ants. Where are they?” 

“ I sent them away becaue they were superfluous incum- 
brances,” she hastily added, as he would have interrupted 
her. “We have four in the house, and your wife has 
brought a fine maid, I see, making five. I have come up 
here to live.” 

Mr. Clifton felt checkmated. He had always bowed to 
the will of his sister, but he had an idea that he and his 
wife would be better without her. 

“ And your own house?” he exclaimed. 

“ I have let it furnished ; the people entered to-day. You 
can not turn me out of the Barrington estate into the road 
or to furnished rooms, Harold. There will be enough ex- 
pense without our keeping on two houses, and most people, 
in your place, would jump at the prospect of my living 
here. Your wife will be mistress. Ido not intend to take 
her honors from her; but 1 shall save her a great deal of 
trouble in management, and be as useful to her as a house- 
keeper. She will be glad of that, inexperienced as she is. 
I dare say she never gave a domestic order in her life.” 

This was a view of the case to Mr. Clifton so plausibly 
put that he began to think it might be all for the best. 
He had great reverence for his sister’s judgment; force of 
habit is strong upon all of us. Still he did not know. 

“ There is certainly room for you at my house, Fannie, 
but—” 

“ A little too much,” put in Miss Fannie. “ I think a 
house half its size might content us all, and still have been 
grand enough for your wife.” 

“ This house is mine,” said Mr. Clifton. 

“ So is your folly,” rejoined Miss Clifton. 

“ And with regard to servants,” proceeded Mr. Clifton, 
passing over the remark, “ I shall keep as many as 1 deem 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


91 


necessary. I can not give my wife splendor, but 1 will 
give her comfort. The horses and carriage will take one 
man's — " 

Miss Clifton turned faint all over. 

“ What are you talking of?" 

“ 1 bought a pretty open carriage in the city, and a pair 
of ponies for it." 

“ Oh, Harold! the sins you are committing." 

“ Sins!" echoed Mr. Clifton. 

“ Willful waste makes woful want." 

“It may be a sin where you can not afford it. To spend 
wisely is neither a squander nor a sin. Never you fear, 
Fannie, that 1 shall run beyond my income. ” 

“ Say at once that an empty pocket is better than a full 
one," angrily returned Miss Clifton. 

“ Did you buy that fine piano which has arrived?" 

“ It was my present to Hazel." 

Fannie groaned. 

“ What did it cost?" 

“ The cost is of no consequence. The old piano here 
was a bad one, and I bought a better . 99 

At that moment J ohn entered with some hot water. Mr. 
Clifton rose, and looked on the sideboard. 

“ Where's the wine, John?" 

The servant put it out— port and sherry. 

Mr. Clifton drank a glass, and then proceeded to mix 
some wine and water. 

“ Shall I mix some for you, Fannie?" he asked. 

44 I'll mix for myself if I want any. Who is that for?" 

“ Hazel." 

He quitted the room, carrying the wine and water, and 
entered his wife's room. She was sitting half buried, it 
seemed, in |the arm-chair, her face muffled up. As she 
raised it, he saw that it was flushed and agitated; that her 
eyes were bright and her frame was trembling. 

“ What is the matter?" he hastily asked. 

“ 1 got nervous after Eno went," she whispered, laying 
hold of him, as if for protection from terror; 4 4 1 was hop- 
ing somebody would come up." 

44 1 have been talking to Fannie. But what made you 
nervous?" 

44 Oh, I was very foolish! 1 kept thinking of frightful 


92 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


things; they would come into my mind. Do not blame 
me, Harold. This room is the one papa died in. ” 

“ Blame you, my darling?” he said. 

“ I thought of a dreadful story about the bats, that the 
servants told — I don’t think you ever heard it; and I kept 
thinking. Suppose they were at the windows now, behind 
the blinds? And then I was afraid to look at the bed; I 
fancied I might see — You are laughing!” 

Yes, he was smiling, for he knew that these moments of 
nervous fear are best met jestingly. He made her drink 
the wine and water, and then he showed her where the bell 
was, ringing it as he did so. 

“ Your rooms shall be changed to-morrow. Hazel.” 

“Ho, let us remain in these. I shall like to feel that 
papa was once their occupant. 1 won’t get nervous again. ” 

But even as she spoke her actions belied her words. 
Mr. Clifton had gone to the door, and opened it, and she 
flew close up to him. 

“ Shall you be very long, Harold?” she whispered. 

“ Hot more than an hour,” he answered. But he hast- 
ily put back one hand and held her tightly in his protect- 
ing grasp. Eno was coming along the corridor in answer 
to the bell. 

“ Have the goodness to let Miss Clifton know that I am 
not coming down again to-night.” 

“Yes, sir. ” 

Mr. Clifton shut the door, and then looked at his wife 
and laughed. 

“ He is very kind to me,” thought Hazel. 

With the morning began the perplexities of Hazel’s life. 
But first of all, just fancy the group at the breakfast-table. 
Miss Clifton descended in the startling costume of the night 
before, took her seat at the table, and there sat bolt up- 
right. Mr. Clifton came down next; and then Hazel en- 
tered in an elegant half-mourning dress with flowing rib- 
bons. 

“ Good-morning. I hope you slept well,” was Miss Clif- 
ton’s salutation. 

“ Quite well, thank you,” Hazel answered, as she took 
her seat. 

The breakfast passed off almost in silence. When it was 
ended Hazel rose from her chair, like a bird released from 
its cage, and stood by her husband’s side. 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTON". 


93 


** Have you finished, Harold ?” 

44 I think I have, dear; oh! here’s my coffee. There, I 
have finished now/’ 

“ Let us go around the grounds.” 

He rose, laid his hands playfully on her waist, and looked 
at her. 

44 You may as well ask me to take a journey to the moon. 
It is past nine, and 1 haven’t been to the office for a 
month. ” 

The tears rose to her eyes. 

“ I wish you could stay with me! 1 wish you could al- 
ways be with me!” 

44 I will be with you as much as ever I can, my dearest,” 
he whispered. 4 4 Come and walk with me through the park. ” 

She ran for her hat, and when she returned they went 
out together. 

He thought it a good opportunity to speak about his sister. 

44 She wishes to remain with us,” he said. 44 1 do not 
know what to decide. On the one hand, I think she might 
save you the worry of household management: on the 
other, I fancy we shall be happier by ourselves.” 

Hazel ’s heart sunk within her at the idea of that stern 
Miss Clifton mounted over her as a resident guard; but, 
refined and sensitive, almost painfully considerate of the 
feelings of others, she raised no word of objection. As he 
and Miss Clifton pleased, she answered. 

44 Hazel,” he said, with grave earnestness, 44 1 wish it to 
be as you please ; that is, 1 wish matters to be arranged as 
may best pl|jise you; and I will have them so arranged. 
My chief object in life now is your happiness. It can be 
tried for a month or two, and we shall see how it works,” 
he musingly observed. 

They reached the park gates. 

44 1 wish I could go with you and be your clerk,” she 
cried, unwilling to release his hand. 44 1 should not have 
all that long way to go back by myself. ” 

He laughed and shook his head, telling her that she 
wanted to bribe him into taking her back; but it could not 
be; and away he went after saying farewell. 

Hazel wandered back, and then wandered through the 
rooms. They looked lonely, not as they had seemed to 
look in her father’s time. In her dressing-room knelt 
Eno unpacking. She rose when Hazel entered. 


94 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


44 Can I speak to you a moment, Mrs. Clifton?” 

“ What is it?” 

Then Eno poured forth her tale. That she feared so 
small an establishment would not suit her, and she would 
like to leave at once — that day. Anticipating it, she had 
not unpacked her things. 

“ There has been some mistake about the servants, Eno, 
but it will be remedied as soon as possible. And I told you 
before 1 married, that Mr. Clifton’s establishment would 
be a limited one.” 

“ I could put up with that; but 1 never could stop in the 
house with that ” — 44 that female Guy ” had been on the tip 
of Eno’s tongue; but she remembered in time of whom she 
was speaking — 44 with Miss Clifton. 1 fear we have both 
got tempers that would clash, and might be flying at each 
other; I could not stay for untold gold. So when 1 have 
finished unpacking I hope you will allow me to go.” 

Hazel would not condescend to ask her to remain; but 
she wondered how she should manage without a maid. 

44 What is the amount due to you?” 

4 4 1 have not had time to reckon it up.” 

Hazel made out the account, and laid it down in gold 
and silver on the table. 

44 It is more than you deserve, Eno,” she remarked, 
44 and more than you would get in most places. You ought 
to have given me proper notice . 99 

Eno melted into tears, and began a string of excuses. 
Hazel quitted the room in the midst of it, and in the course 
of the day Eno took her departure, Sally telling her that 
she ought to be ashamed of herself. 

44 1 couldn’t help myself,” retorted Eno, 44 and I’m sorry 
to leave her, for she is a pleasant young lady to serve. ” 

So Eno left. And when Hazel went to her room to dress 
for dinner, Sally entered. 

44 1 am not much accustomed to ladies’ -maids’ duties,” 
said she, 44 but Miss Clifton has sent me to do what I can 
for you if you will allow me.” 

Hazel thought it was kind of Miss Clifton. 

44 And if you will trust me with your things, I will take 
charge of them until you are suited with a maid,” Sally 
resumed. 

44 Thank you,” Hazel answered; 44 you are good.” 


MU. CLIFTOM OF BARRIMGTOM. 95 

Sally did her best, and in future years Hazel found in 
her both a faithful servant and friend. 

Half an hour later Hazel walked out to the entrance of 
the park, and there met her husband. She looked like an 
exquisite picture, and his heart beat quicker as he felt she 
was his own. A smile stole over his lips as he looked at her. 
He drew her hand within his arm and they walked on, and 
then she told him about Eno. 

He felt annoyed, and said she must get another maid 
with all speed. 

“You have kept dinner waiting more than half an 
hour,” began Miss Clifton, in a loud tone of complaint, to 
her brother, meeting them in the hall, “and I thought 
you must be lost,” she added to Hazel. 

He hastily answered her that he could not get away from 
the office earlier, and went up to his dressing-room. Hazel 
hurried after him, dreading some outbreak of Miss Clifton’s 
displeasure. 

There was an explosion on the following morning. Mr. 
Clifton ordered the pony-carriage for church, but his sister 
interrupted him. 

“Harold! what are you thinking of? I will not per- 
mit it.” 

“ Permit what?” asked Mr. Clifton. 

“ The cattle to be taken out on Sunday. I am a relig- 
ious woman,” she added, turning sharply to Hazel, “ and I 
can not countenance Sunday traveling. 1 was taught my 
catechism. ” 

Hazel did not feel comfortable. She knew that a walk 
to St. Paul’s Church and back in the present heat would 
exhaust her for the day, but she shrunk from offending 
Miss Clifton’s prejudices. She was standing at the window 
with her husband. 

“ Harold, perhaps if we walk very slowly it will not hurt 
me,” she softly whispered. 

He smiled, and whispered in return: 

“ Be quite ready at half past ten.” 

“ Well, is she going to walk?” snapped Fannie, as Hazel 
left the room. 

“No; she could not bear to walk in this heat, and 1 shall 
not allow her to walk. ” 

“ Is she made of glass, that she’d melt?” 


96 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“ She is a gentle, tender plant, one that I have taken to 
my bosom and vowed to love and cherish; and I will do so. ” 

He spoke in a firm tone, almost as sharp as Fannie, and 
left the room. Fannie raised her hand and pressed it to 
her temples, as if something pained her there. 

The carriage came round, a beautiful equipage, and 
Hazel was ready. As Mr. Clifton drove slowly down the 
dusty road they came upon Fannie walking along in the 
sun, with a great umbrella over her head. She would not 
turn to look at them. 

Once more, as in the year gone by, St. Paul’s Church 
was in a flutter of expectation. It expected to see a whole 
paraphernalia of bridal finery, and again it was doomed to 
disappointment, for Hazel had not put off mourning for 
her father. She was in black, a soft lace which hung in 
graceful folds showing her exquisite figure. For the first 
time Mr. Clifton took possession of the pew belonging to 
the Barrington estate. 

Lulu was there. Her face wore a gray dusky hue, of 
which she was only too conscious, but could not subdue. 
Her covetous eyes would wander to that other face with its 
singular loveliness and its sweetly earnest eyes, sheltered 
under the protection of him whose sheltering protection 
she had so long yearned. 

After services were over John brought the carriage. 
Standing outside of the gate, talking to the rector’s fam- 
ily, were several ladies, one of them Lulu Osborne. She 
watched Mr. Clifton place his wife in the carriage; she 
watched him drive away. Lulu’s very lips were white as 
she bowed in return to his greeting. 

“The heat is so great,” murmured Lulu, when those 
around noticed her paleness. 

“Ah! you ought to have gone home in the carriage with 
your father as he desired you.” 

“ I wish to walk,” returned the unhappy Lulu. 

“What a pretty girl!” said Hazel to her husband. 
“ What is her name?” 

“Lulu Osborne.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 

Hazel was in her dressing-room talking to Sally. She 
had grown to like Sally very much, and was asking her 


ME. CLIPTOH OP BAEBDsTGTON. 97 

whether she would continue to wait upon her, as the maid 
for whom she had written was not well enough to come. 

Sally's face lighted up with pleasure at the proposal. 

“ Oh, you are very kind! 1 should so like it. I would 
serve you faithfully to the best of my ability; and 1 know 
1 could do your hair well, if you allowed me to try." 

Hazel laughed. 

“ But Miss Clifton may not be inclined to transfer you." 

“ I think she would be; she said a day or two ago that 1 
appeared to suit you, and you might have me altogether if 
you wished. " 

She was about to speak further, when a knock came to 
the dressing-room door. Sally went to open it, and saw 
one of the house-maids recently engaged. Hazel heard the 
colloquy: 

“ Is Mrs. Clifton there?" 

“Yes." 

“ Some visitors. John ordered me to come and tell you. 
Say, Sally, it's the Osbornes, and she's with them. I 
watched her get out of the carriage." 

“ Who?" 

“ Why, Miss Osborne. Only fancy her coming to pay 
the wedding visit here. Mrs. Clifton had better take care 
that she don't get a cup of poison mixed for her. Mr. 
Clifton is out, or else I'd have given a dollar to see the in- 
terview between the three. " 

Sally sent the girl away, shut the door, and turned to 
Hazel, quite unconscious that the half- whispered conversa- 
tion had been audible. 

“ Some visitors in the drawing-room, Mrs. Clifton. Ann 
says Mr. and Mrs. Osborne and daughter." 

Hazel descended, her mind full of the mysterious words 
spoken by Ann. The judge was looking obstinate and 
pompous; Mrs. Osborne pale, delicate and lady-like; Lulu 
beautiful. Such was the impression they made upon Hazel. 

They paid rather a long visit. Hazel quite fell in love 
with the gentle and suffering Mrs. Osborne, who had risen 
to leave when Miss Clifton came into the room and insisted 
that Lulu should remain and dine with them. 

Lulu’s face turned crimson; but nevertheless she accept- 
ed the invitation. 

Dinner-time approached, and Hazel went up to dress for 

4 - 


98 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


it. Sally was waiting, and entered upon her duties at 
once, as Mrs. Clifton sat down to have her hair brushed. 

“ Which dress shall I lay out, Mrs. Clifton?'* 

“ Sally, what was that 1 heard you and Ann gossiping 
over at the door?” Hazel suddenly asked. “ About Miss 
Osborne giving me a cup of poison. You should tell Ann 
not to whisper so loudly.” 

Sally smiled, though she was rather confused. 

“ It was only a bit of nonsense, of course. The fact is 
that people think Miss Osborne was much attached to Mr. 
Clifton— really in love with him — and many thought it 
would be a match. But I don't fancy she would have 
been the one to make him happy with all her love.” 

A hot flush passed over the face of Hazel; a sensation 
very like jealousy flew to her heart. Ho woman likes to 
hear that another is or has been attached to her husband ; 
a doubt always arises whether the feeling may not have 
been reciprocated. 

Hazel descended. She wore a costly black lace dress, its 
low body and sleeves trimmed with white lace as costly, and 
ornaments of jet. She looked inexpressibly beautiful, and 
Lulu turned from her with a sickening jealousy— from her 
beauty, from her attire. Lulu looked well, too; she was 
dressed in light blue silk and her pretty cheeks were dam- 
ask with her mind's excitement. On her neck she wore 
the gold chain given to her by Mr. Clifton — she had not 
discarded that. 

They stood together at the window, looking at Mr. Clif- 
ton as he came up the avenue. He saw them, and nod- 
ded. Hazel watched the damask cheeks turn to crimson 
at the sight of him. 

“ How do you do, Lulu?” he said, as he«,shook hands. 
“ Come to pay us a visit at last? You have been tardy over 
it. And how are you, my darling?” he said, bending over 
his wife. But she missed his kiss of greeting. She would 
not have him give it to her in the presence of another, but 
she was in the mood to notice the omission. 

Dinner over. Miss Clifton beguiled Lulu out-of-doors. 
Lulu went unwillingly; she would rather be in his presence 
than away from it; and she could not help feeling this al- 
though he was the husband of another. 

They came upon the gardener, and Miss Clifton got into 
a discussion with him, a somewhat warm one. She insisted 


1UR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. {)§ 

upon having certain work done in a certain way, he stand- 
ing to it that Mr. Clifton had ordered it done* in another. 
Lulu grew tired and returned to the house. 

Hazel and her husband were in the adjoining room, at 
the piano, and Lulu had the opportunity of hearing that 
sweet voice. 

“There, Harold! 1 am sure 1 have sung to you ten 
songs at least, ” she said, leaning her head back against 
him and looking at him from her upturned face. “ You 
ought to pay me.” 

He did pay her, holding the dear face to him, and tak- 
ing from it some impassioned kisses. Lulu turned to the 
window, a low moan of pain escaping her, as she pressed 
her forehead on one of its panes and looked forth at the 
dusky night. Hazel came in on her husband's arm. 

“ Are you here alone, Miss Osborne?- I really beg your 
pardon. 1 thought you were with Miss Clifton.” 

“ Where is Fannie, Lulu?” 

“ I have just come in,” was Lulu’s reply. “ I dare say 
she is following me.” 

The evening went on to ten, and as the time-piece struck 
the hour. Lulu rose from her chair in amazement. 

“ I did not think it was so late. Surely some one must 
have come for me.” 

“I will inquire,” was Hazel’s answer; and Mr. Clifton 
rang the bell. No one had come for Miss Osborne. 

“Then I fear 1 must trouble John,” said Lulu. 
“ Mamma must have gone to rest tired, and papa must 
have forgotten, me. It would never do for me to get locked 
out.” 

“ As you were one night before,” said Miss Clifton, sig- 
nificantly. 

She alluded to the night when Lulu was in the grove of 
trees with her unfortunate brother. 

“ Oh, don’t. Miss Clifton!” she uttered on the impulse 
of the moment; “don’t recall it.” 

Hazel wondered. 

“ Can John take me?” continued Lulu. 

“ I had better take you,” said Mr. Clifton. “It is 
late.” 

Lulu’s heart beat at the words; it beat as she put her hat 
on, as she said good-night to Haze} and Miss Clifton; it 
beat to throbbing as she went out with him and took his 


100 MR. CLIFTOK OF BARRiFrGrOtf. 

arm, all just as it used to be — only that he was now the 
husband of another. 

It was a warm, lovely June night, not moonlight, but 
bright with its summer’s starlight. They went down the 
park into the road, which they crossed, and soon came to 
a stile. From that stile there led a path through the fields' 
which would pass the back of Judge Osborne’s. Lulu 
stopped at it. 

44 Would you choose the field way to-night. Lulu? The 
grass will be damp, and this is the longest way.” 

44 But we shall escape the dust of the road.” 

44 Oh! very well, if you prefer it. It will not make 
three minutes’ difference.” 

44 He is very anxious to get home to her!” mentally ex- 
claimed Lulu. 44 1 shall fly out upon him presently, or 
my heart will burst!” 

Mr. Clifton crossed the stile, helped over Lulu, and then 
gave her his arm again. 

Mr. Clifton walked on, utterly unconscious of the storm 
that was raging within her. More than that, he was uncon- 
scious of having given cause for one, and dashed into 
topics indifferent and commonplace in the most provok- 
ing manner. 

44 When does your father begin hay-making, Lulu?” 

There was no reply; Lulu was trying to keep down her 
emotion. Mr. Clifton tried again. 

44 Lulu, 1 asked you which day your father cuts hay?” 

Still no reply. Lulu was literally incapable of making 
one. Her throat was working, the muscles of her mouth 
began to twitch, and a convulsive sob, or what sounded 
like it, broke from her. Mr. Clifton turned his head 
hastily. 

44 Lulu, are you ill? What is it?” 

On it came, passion, temper, wrongs, hysterics. Mr. 
Clifton half carried, half dragged her to the second stile, 
and placed her against it, his arm supporting her; and an 
old cow and two calves, wondering what the disturbance 
could mean at that sober time of night, walked up and 
stared at them. 

Lulu struggled with her emotion — struggled bravely, 
and the sobs and the hysterical symptoms subsided; not the 
excitement or the passion. 

She put away his arm, and stood with her back to the 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


101 


stile, leaning against it. Mr. Clifton felt inclined to fly to 
the pond for water, only he had nothing but his hat to get 
it in. 

“Are you better. Lulu? What can have caused all 
this?” 

“ What can have caused it!” she burst forth, in pas- 
sionate uncontrol. “ You can ask me that?” 

Mr. Clifton was struck dumb; but by some iuexplicable 
law of sympathy a dim and very unpleasant consciousness 
of the truth began to steal over him. 

“ I don't understand you. Lulu. If I have offended 
you in any way I am truly sorry. ” 

“ Truly sorry, no doubt! What do you care for me? 
If I go under the sod to-morrow ” — stamping it with her 
foot — “ you have your wife to care for. What am I?” 

“ Hush!” he interposed,. glancing round, more mindful 
for her than she was for herself. 

“ Hush — yes! What is my misery to you? 1 would 
rather be in my grave, Harold Clifton, than endure the 
life I lead. My pain is greater than I know how to bear.” 

“ I can not affect to misunderstand you,” he said, feel- 
ing extremely annoyed and vexed. “ But, my dear Lulu, 
I never gave you cailse to think that I— that I — cared for 
you more than I did care.” 

“ Never gave me cause!” she gasped. “ When you 
have been coming to our house constantly, almost like my 
shadow; when you gave me this ”■ — dashing open her 
mantle and holding up the locket to view — “ when you 
have been more intimate with me than a brother?” 

“There, Lulu! there it is — as a brother. I have been 
nothing else; it never occurred to me to be anything else,” 
he added, in his straightforward truth. 

“ Ay, as a brother. Nothing else?” and her voice arose 
once more with excitement; it seemed that she would not 
long control it. “ What cared you for my feelings? what 
rocked you that you gained my love?” 

“ Lulu, hush!” he implored; “ do be calm and reason- 
able. If 1 ever gave you cause to think I regarded you 
with deeper feeling, 1 can only express to you my deep re- 
gret and assure you it was done unconsciously.” 

She was growing calmer. The passion was fading, leav- 
ing her face ptfU and wlpte; slie lifted it toward Mr. Clif- 
ton, 


102 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

“ If she had not come between us, should you have loved 
me?” 

‘M don't know. How can I know? Do I not say to 
you, Lulu, that I only thought of you as a friend, as a 
sister? I can not tell what might have been.” 

“ I could bear it better, but that it was known,” she 
said. “ All Barrington had coupled us together in their 
jurying gossip, and they have only pity for me now. I 
would far rather you had killed me, Harold!” 

“ I can but express to you my deep regret,” he repeat- 
ed; “I can only hope you will soon forget it all. Let the 
remembrance of this conversation pass away with to- 
night; let us still be to each other as friends — as brother 
and sister. Believe me,” he concluded, in a deeper tone, 
“ the confession has not lessened you in my estimation.” 

He made a movement as though he would get over the 
stile, but Lulu did not stir; the tears were silently cours- 
ing down her pallid face. At that moment there was an 
interruption. 

“ Is that you. Miss Lulu?” 

Lulu started as if she had been shot. 

On the other side of the stile stood Cora, one of the 
Osborne's maids. How long might she have been there? 
She began to explain that Mr. Osborne had sent their 
man-servant out, and Mrs. Osborne thought it better to 
whit no longer for the man's return, so had sent her for 
Miss Lulu. 

“ You need not come any further now,” she said to 
him, in a low tone. 

“ I shall see you home,” was his reply; and he held out 
his arm. 

Lulu took it. 

They walked on in silence. Arriving at the house, 
Harold took both Lulu's hands in his. 

“ Good-night, Lulu! Heaven bless you and make you 
happy!” 

She had had time for reflection, and the excitement 
gone, she saw her outbreak in all its shame and folly. 
Harold noticed how subdued and white she looked. 

“I think I have been mad,” she groaned; “1 must 
have been mad to say what I did. Forget that it was ut- 
tered ” 

“1 told you 1 would,” 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 103 

4 4 Thank you. Good-night !” 

But he still retained her hands. 

“ In a short time. Lulu, I trust you will find one more 
worthy to receive your love than I have been.” 

“ Never,” she impulsively answered. 44 1 do not love 
and forget so lightly. In the years to come, in my old 
age, I shall still be nothing but Lulu Osborne.” 

Harold walked away in a fit of musing. The revelation 
had given him pain. 

44 1 heartily hope she will soon find somebody to her 
liking and forget me,” was his concluding thoughts. 44 As 
to living and dying Lulu Osborne, that is all moonshine; 
the sentimental rubbish that girls like to — 99 

44 Harold!” 

He was passing the very last tree in the park, the near- 
est to his house, and the interruption came from a dark 
form standing under it. 

44 Is it you, my dearest?” 

44 1 came out to meet you. Have you not been very 
long?” 

44 I think I have,” he answered, as he drew his wife to 
his side and walked on with her. 44 We met one of the 
servants at the second stile, but 1 went all the way.” 

44 You have been intimate with the Osbornes?” 

4 ‘ Quite so.” 

44 Do you think Lulu pretty?” 

44 Very.” 

44 Then, intimate as you were, 1 wonder you never fell 
in love with her.” 

Harold laughed — a very conscious laugh, considering the 
recent interview. 

“ Did you, Harold?” 

The words were spoken in a low tone; almost, or he fan- 
cied it, in a tone of emotion; and he looked at her in amaze- 
ment. 

44 Did 1 what. Hazel?” 

44 You never loved Lulu Osborne?” 

44 Loved her! What is your mind running on, Hazel? 
1 never loved but one woman, and that one 1 made my 
wife.” 

Oh! what a pity he did not make this noble, true woman 
his confidant, and then his would not have been the sad 
portion of years of untold suffering. 


104 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


CHAPTER XV. 

Not a day passed but Miss Clifton, by dint of hints and 
innuendoes, contrived to impress upon Hazel the unfortu- 
nate blow to his own interests that Mr. Clifton's marriage 
had been, the ruinous expense she had entailed upon the 
family. It struck a chill to Hazel's heart, and she became 
painfully imbued with the incubus she must be to Mr. 
Clifton. But to be told continually by his sister that she 
was a blight upon his prospects was enough to turn her 
heart to bitterness. Oh! that she had the courage to speak 
out openly to her husband, that he might by a single word 
of earnest love and assurance have taken the weight from 
her heart and rejoiced it with the truth. But she never 
did. When Fannie lapsed into her grumbling mood, she 
would hear in silence or gently bend her aching forehead 
in her hands, never retorting. 

So things went on. One morning early in April a little 
baby Clifton arrived. Baby needed a great deal of atten- 
tion, and of course the next thing was to get a good nurse 
for her. Hazel did not get strong very quickly; fever and 
weakness had a struggle with each other and with her. 
One day, when she was dressed and sitting in her easy- 
chair. Miss Clifton entered. • 

“Of all the servants in Barrington, who should you 
suppose is come up after the place of nurse?" she said to 
Hazel. 

“ Indeed, I can not guess." 

“ Why, Cora — Mrs. Osborne’s maid. The years she has 
been with them, and now leaves in consequence of a quar- 
rel with Lulu. Will you see her?" 

“ Is she likely to suit? Will she make a good nurse?" 

“ She’s steady and respectabLp, but she has got a tongue 
as long as from here to Hillsdpe. " 

“ That won’t hurt the baby," said Hazel. “ But if she 
has lived as lady’s-maid, she probably does not understand 
the care of infants." 

“ Yes, she does. She was head nurse at Judge Miller’s 
before going to Mrs. Osborne’s." 

“I will see her," said Hazel. 

The m;rse was introduced— -a tall, pleasaat-looking 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


105 


woman with black eyes. Hazel inquired why she was 
leaving Mrs. Osborne’s. 

“ It is through Miss Lulu’s temper. For this year past 
nothing has pleased her; she has grown nearly as imperi- 
ous as the judge himself. I have threatened many times 
to leave, and last evening we came to another outbreak, 
and I left this morning.” 

“ Left entirely?” 

“ Yes, Mrs. Clifton. Miss Lulu provoked me so that I 
said last night 1 would leave as soon as breakfast was over. 
And I did so. I should be very glad to take your situa- 
tion, if you would please try me.” 

■ 4 Possibly this situation might not suit you so well as 
you imagine. I have great confidence in Sally, and in 
case of my illness or absence Sally would superintend the 
nursery, and you would be under her.” 

“ I should not mind that,” was the applicant’s answer. 
“ I like Sally.” 

Cora was therefore engaged, and was to enter upon her 
new service the next morning. 

In the afternoon succeeding it Hazel was lying on her 
sofa in her bedroom, asleep, as was supposed. In point of 
fact, she was in that state of sleep, half- wakeful delirium, 
which those who suffer from weakness and fever know only 
too well. Suddenly she was aroused from it by hearing 
her own name mentioned in the adjoining room, where sat 
Sally and Cora, the latter holding the sleeping infant on 
her knee, the former sewing, the door between the rooms 
bring ajar. 

“ How ill she looks!” observed Cora. 

“ Who?” asked Sally. 

“ Mrs. Clifton. She looks as if she’d never get over it.” 

“ She is getting over it quickly now,” returned Sally. 
“ If you had seen her a week ago you would not say she 
was looking ill now.” 

“ My! would not somebody’s hopes be up again if any- 
thing should happen?” 

“ Nonsense!” crossly returned Sally. 

“You may say ‘nonsense’ forever, Sally, but they 
would,” went on Cora. “ And she would snap him up to 
a dead certainty; she’d never let him escape her a secon4 
time. She is as much ip loy$ with him as she eyer was ? ” 


106 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“ It was all talk and fancy/* said Sally. “ Barrington 
must be busy. Mr. Clifton never cared for her.** 

“ That*s more than you know. I have seen a little, 
Sally; I have seen him kiss her.** 

“ A pack of rubbish! That tells nothing.** 

“ I don’t say it does; he gave her that locket and chain 
she wears.** 

“ Who wears?** retorted Sally, determined not gracious- 
ly to countenance the subject. “ I don’t want to hear 
anything about it.** 

“ Who, now! Why, Miss Lulu. She has hardly had it 
off her neck since. My belief is she wears it in her sleep.** 
“ More simpleton she!” echoed Sally. 

“ The night before he left Barrington to marry Mrs. 
Clifton— and didn’t the news come upon us like a thunder- 
bolt! — Miss Lulu had been to see Miss Clifton, and he 
brought her home. A lovely night it was, the moon ris- 
ing, and nearly as light as day. He somehow , broke her 
parasol in coming home, and when they got to our gate 
there was a love scene. ** 

“ Were you a third in it?” demanded Sally. 

“Yes, without meaning to be. 1 was expecting some- 
body that evening, and I was in the trees waiting for him. 
Up came Mr. Clifton and Miss Lulu. She wanted him to 
go in, but he would not, and they stood there. Something 
was said about the locket, and about his giving her a piece 
of his hair to put in it. I could not catch the words dis- 
tinctly, and 1 did not dare to stir nearer, for fear of their 
hearing me. It was a regular love scene. I could hear 
enough for that. If anybody thought to be Mrs. Clifton, 
Lulu Osborne did that night.” 

“ Why, you great baby, you have just said it was the 
night before he went to be married!” * 

“I don’t care; she did. After he was gone I saw her 
lift up her, hands and face in ecstasy, and say he could 
never know how much she loved him until she was his 
wife. Be you very sure, Sally, many a love passage had 
passed between them two; but I suppose when his wife 
was thrown in his way he couldn’t resist her and her 
beauty, and the old love was cast over. It is in the nature 
of man to be fickle, especially those who can boast of their 
own good looks, like Mr. Clifton.” 

“ Mr. Clifton’s not fickle.” 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. ' 107 

“ I can tell you some more yet. Two or three days after 
that Miss Clifton came up to our house with the news of 
his marriage. I was in Mrs. Osborne’s room, and they 
were in the room underheath, the windows open, and I 
heard Miss Clifton tell the tale, for I was leaning out. 
Up came Miss Lulu on an excuse and flew into her room, 
and I went into the hall. A few moments, and 1 heard a 
noise; it was a sort of wail or groan, and 1 opened the door 
softly, fearing she might be fainting. Sally, if my heart 
never ached for anybody, it ached then. She was lying on 
the floor, her hands clinched together, and her poor face all 
white, like one in mortal agony. I’d have given anything 
to say a word of comfort to her; but I didn’t dare to inter- 
fere with such sorrow as that. 1 came out again and shut 
the door without her seeiug me.” 

“ How thoroughly stupid she must have been!” uttered 
Sally, “ to go caring for one who did not care for her.” 

“ 1 tell you, Sally, you don’t know that he did not care. 
You are as obstinate as the judge. And I wish to good- 
ness you wouldn’t interrupt me. They came up here to 
pay the wedding visit, and if you have got any memory at 
all, you can’t fail to recollect it. Miss Lulu remained to 
dine with the Cliftons.” 

“ 1 remember it.” 

“ 1 was sent to accompany her home in the evening. 1 
came the field way, for the dust by the road was enough to 
smother one, and at the last stile but one, what do you 
think I came upon?” 

Sally lifted her eyes. 

“ A snake, perhaps?” 

“ I came upon Miss Lulu and Mr. Clifton. What had 
passed, nobody knows but themselves. She was leaning 
her back against the stile, crying, sobs breaking from her 
like one might expect to hear from a breaking heart. It 
seemed as if she had been reproaching him, as if some ex- 
planation had passed, and I heard him say that from 
thenceforth they could only be a brother and sister. I 
spoke soon, for fear they should see me, and Mr. Clifton 
got over the stile. Miss Lulu said to him that he need not 
come any further, but he just held out his arm and came 
with her to the gate. 1 went on to open the door, and I 
saw him with his head bent down to her and her two hands 


108 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

held in his. We don’t know how it was between them, 1 
tell you.” 

“ She is a darn fool to suffer herself to love him still!” 
uttered Sally, indignantly. 

“ So she is; but she does do it. She’ll often steal out to 
the gate about the time she knows he’ll be passing, and 
watch him go by, and not letting him see her. It is noth- 
ing but her unhappiness, her jealousy that makes her so 
cross. I assure you, Sally, in the past year she has so 
changed that she’s not like the same person. If Mr. Clif- 
ton should ever get tired of his wife, and — ” 

44 Cora,” harshly interrupted Sally, “ have the good- 
ness to recollect yourself. ” 

4 4 Well, 1 say if anything happens to Mrs. Clifton, Miss 
Lulu will step into her shoes as sure as fate.” 

44 Nothing is going to happen,” returned Sally, with 
composure. 

44 1 hope it is not, now or later — for the sake of this dear 
little innocent thing upon my lap,” went on the undaunted 
Cora. 44 She would not make a very kind step-mother, for 
it is certain that where the first wife had been hated her 
child won’t be loved. She would turn Mr. Clifton against 
her—” 

44 1 tell you what it is, Cora,” interrupted Sally, in a 
firm, unmistakable tone, 44 if you think to pursue these 
sort of topics in this house, 1 shall inform Mrs. Clifton 
that you are unsuitable for the situation.” 

44 1 dare say.” 

44 Another word, Cora; it appears to me that^you have 
carried on a prying system in Mrs. Osborne’s house. Do 
not attempt such things in this.” 

44 You were always one of the straight-laced sort, Sally,” 
said Cora, laughing good-humoredly. 44 But now that I 
have had my say out, 1 shall stop, and you need not fear I 
should be such a simpleton as to go prattling of this kind 
of thing to the servants.” 

Now, just fancy this conversation penetrating to Hazel! 
She heard it, every word. It is all very well to oppose the 
argument, 44 Who attends to the gossip of servants?” 

A nice state of excitement she worked herself into as she 
lay there; jealousy and fear — ay, and love, too, playing 
pranks with her brain. When Mr. Clifton entered he was 


CLINTON Ok BAkftlHGTOtf. 3.09 

startled to see her; her pallid cheeks were burning with a 
red hectic, and her eyes glistened with fever. 

“ Hazel, you are worse!” he uttered, approaching her 
quickly. 

She partially arose from the couch and clasped hold of 
him in her emotion. 

“ Oh, Harold, Harold!” she uttered, “ don’t marry her! 
I could not rest in my grave!” 

Mr. Clifton, in his puzzled astonishment, believed her to 
be laboring under some temporary hallucination, the result 
of weakness. He set himself to soothe her, but it seemed 
that she could not be soothed. She burst into a storm of 
tears and began again in wild tones: 

“ She would ill-treat my child; she would draw your love 
from it and from my memory. Harold, you must not 
marry her!” 

“You must be speaking from the influence of a dream. 
Hazel,” he soothingly said. “ You have been asleep, and 
are not yet awake. Be still, and recollection will return to 
you. There, love, rest upon me. ” 

“ To think of her as your wife brings pain enough to kill 
me. Promise me you will not marry her; Harold, prom- 
ise it!” 

“ I will promise you anything in reason,” he replied, 
bewildered with her words; “ but I do not know what you 
mean. There is no possibility of my marrying any one. 
Hazel. You are my wife.” 

“ But if 1 die? 1 may — you know 1 may — and many 
thiuk I shall. Do not let her usurp my place, will you, 
dear?” 

“ Indeed she shall not, whoever you may be talking of. 
What have you been dreaming? Who is it that is troubling 
your mind?” 

“ Harold, do you need to ask? Did you love no one be- 
fore you married me? Perhaps you have loved her since — 
perhaps you love her still?” 

Mr. Clifton began to discern “ method in her madness.” 
He changed his cheering tone to one of grave earnestness. 

“ Of whom do you speak. Hazel?” 

“ Of Lulu Osborne.” 

Ah! Harold Clifton, now again another chance is given 
you to make your wife your confidant, but you let the 


1 10 MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON*. 

golden opportunity go by. Will you have another chance 
before it is too late? 

He knit his brow; he was both annoyed and vexed. 
What ever had put this by-gone nonsense into his wife’s 
head? He quitted the couch where he had been support- 
ing her, and stood upright before her, calm, dignified, 
almost solemn in his seriousness. 

“ Hazel, what notion you can possibly have picked up 
about myself and Lulu Osborne I am unable to conceive. 
I never loved Lulu Osborne; I never entertained the faint- 
est shadow of love for her, either before my marriage or 
since. You must tell me what has given rise to this idea 
in your mind.” 

“But she loved you.” 

A moment’s hesitation — for of course Mr. Clifton was 
conscious. 

“ If she did give her love to me, 1 can only say I was en- 
tirely unconscious of it. Believe me, you have as much 
cause to be jealous of Fannie as 3 m u have of Lulu Os- 
borne. ” 

Hazel sighed; it was a sigh of relief, and her breath 
grew calmer. She felt inexpressibly reassured. Mr. Clif- 
ton bent his head, and spoke in a tender but pained tone. 

“ I had not thought that the past year was thrown 
away. What proof can a man give of true and earnest 
love that I have not given to you?” 

“ Don’t be angry with me, Harold; the trouble and 
doubt would not have risen had 1 cared for you less.” 

He smiled again his own fond smile. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

A few years had passed on. 

“ I should recommend a change of scene, Mr. Clifton — 
say some place by the sea. Sea-bathing might do won- 
ders.” 

“ Should you think it well for her to go so far from 
home?” 

“I should. Where there is any chronic or confirmed 
disorder, one we can grapple with, 1 don’t care a straw for 
change of scene or air; a patient is as well at home as away; 
a certain treatment must be gone through, surgical or 
physical, and it is of little moment whether it is pursued on 


MU. CLIFTOFT OF BARKIKOTOM. Ill 

a mountain or by the sea. But in these cases of protracted 
weakness, where you can do noticing but try and coax the 
strength back again, change of scene and air are of im- 
mense benefit.” 

“ 1 will propose it to her,” said Mr. Clifton. 

“ 1 have just done so,” replied Dr. Dome. “ She met 
it with objection, which I expected, for invalids naturally 
feel a disinclination to move from home. But it is neces- 
sary that she should go. ” 

The object of their conversation was Hazel. There were 
three children now at the Barrington estate: Ethel, Frank, 
and Harold, the latter twelve months old. Hazel had, a 
month or two back, been attacked with illness. She re- 
covered from it; that is, recovered from the disorder, but 
it had left her in an alarming state of weakness. 

Hazel was unwilling to take Dr. Dome's advice to go so 
far from home. ’She certainly was looking very ill; her 
features were white and attenuated, her sweet sad eyes had 
grown larger and darker, her hands were hot and sickly. 
Though warm weather, she had generally a shawl folded 
round her, and would sit for hours without rousing herself, 
as those suffering from great weakness like to do; would 
sit gazing out on the calm landscape or watching her chil- 
dren at play. She went out once a day in a closed carriage, 
and that was all; no other exertion could she be aroused to 
make. 

In this illness the old trouble had come back again — the 
sore feeling touching her husband and Lulu Osborne. It 
had lain pretty dormant in the last few years, nothing 
having occurred to excite it, but Hazel was in that state of 
weakness where grievances, let them be old or new, grow 
upon the mind. Her thoughts would wander to the un- 
satisfactory question, whether Mr. Clifton had ever truly 
loved her, or whether, lured by her beauty, he had married 
her, loving Lulu Osborne. 

Mr. Clifton's demonstrative affection, shown so greatly 
for her in the first year or so of their married life, had sub- 
sided into calmness. Is not a similar result arrived at by 
every husband that the church ever made one with woman? 
It was not that his love had faded, but that time and cus- 
tom had wrought their natural effects. Look at children 
with their toys; a boy with a new drum, a girl with a new 
doll. Are not the playthings kissed, and hugged, and 


112 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

clasped in arms, and never put down? Did ever playthings 
seem like them? Are not all other things neglected, or 
submitted unwillingly — the reading lessons, the sports, the 
daily works, even the pudding at dinner, while the new toy 
is all in all? But wait. A little time, and the drum (if 
it has escaped breakage) is consigned to the dark closet, 
the doll to its cradle, [and neither of them is visited or looked 
at. Tell the children to go and get their lately cherished 
playthings to make their evening’s amusements, and they 
will go unwillingly (if they don’t openly rebel), for they 
are tired of them. Do we not all, men and women, become 
indifferent to our toys when we hold them securely in pos- 
session? 

Hazel did not understand the even manner, the quiet 
calmness into which her husband’s once passionate love had 
subsided, and in her fanciful jealousy she attributed it to 
the influence Lulu held upon his memory. She looked for 
the little tender episodes of daily life. When she compared 
him with other men, and saw how far he surpassed them, 
how noble and good he was, how little the rest looked be- 
side him, her heart rose up with pride at the consciousness 
of being his wife. A princess might have deemed it an honor 
to be the chosen of such a man as Harold Clifton. Spa,re 
one little corner of his heart to Lulu Osborne! No, indeed; 
Hazel could not afford that. 

On the day that the journey was finally decided, Hazel 
was in the drawing-room with her three children; even the 
little fellow was sitting on the carpet. Ethel was a del- 
icate, pretty child in her fifth year; Frank was the very 
image of his mother; Harold was like his father. 

“ Come here, my darlings!” she cried. 

Ethel and Frank ran to her, and she placed an arm 
around each. Master Harold was kicking his heels on the 
carpet at a distance. 

They looked up at their mother. 

“ Would my darlings like to go with mamma down by 
the sea in a boat?” 

Ethel — she had inherited the refined, sensitive feeling of 
her mother — replied only by a smile and a vivid blush. 
Frank clapped his hands. 

“ Oh, yes, in a boat! And baby Harold, too, mamma?” 

“ Baby Harold and all,” answered Hazel. “ And Sally 
and Cora, and — ” 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRIfTGTOR'. 113 

Miss Clifton, who was seated near one of the windows, 
sewing, turned sharply round to interrupt the gladness. 
Miss Clifton, though not openly dissenting, did not inwardly 
approve of the proposed trip. 

“ What did people want with change of air?” thought 
she. She had never wanted any. A pack of new-fangled 
notions that doctors had got into, recommending change of 
air for everything! They'd order it next for a cut finger. 
If Hazel would make an effort she'd get strong fast enough 
at home. 

44 The children are not going to the sea-side,” said she. 
44 They are not ordered there.'' 

44 But they must go with me,” replied Hazel. “ Of 
course they are not expressly ordered to it. Why should 
they not go?” 

4 4 Why should they not?” retorted Miss Clifton. 44 Why, 
on account of the expense, to be sure. I can tell you what 
it is. Hazel, what with one expense and another your hus- 
band will soon be on the road to ruin. Your journey with 
Sally and John will cost enough, without taking a van 
load of nurses and children.” 

Hazel's heart sunk within her. 

44 Besides, your object in going is to pick up health, and 
how can you do that if you are to be worried with chil- 
dren?” pursued Miss Clifton. 44 People who go abroad for 
pleasure, or invalids in search of health, won't find much 
of either if they carry their cares with them.” 

Hazel arose, and with difficulty lifted Harold from the 
carpet, sat down with him on her knee, and pressed his lit- 
tle face to hers. 

44 Would my baby like mamma to go away and leave 
him?” she asked, the tears falling fast on his fair curls. 
44 Oh, I could not leave them behind me!” she added, look- 
ing imploriugly at Fannie. 44 1 should get no better if you 
send me there alone; I should ever be yearning for the 
children.” 

44 Alone? Is your husband nothing?” 

44 But he will only take me; he will not remain.” 

44 Well, you can't expect his business to go to rack and 
ruin,” snapped Fannie. 44 How can he stay away from it? 
With all these heavy expenses upon him, there's more need 
than ever for his sticking to it closely. And before the 


114 


MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 


children are gallivanted over the water it might be as well 
to sit down and calculate the cost.” 

Poor Hazel, effectually silenced, and her heart breaking 
with pain, laid her head meekly down upon her children. 
Sally, who was then in the room, heard a little, and con- 
jectured much of what had passed. 

In the evening Mr. Clifton carried Ethel up to the nursery 
on his shoulders. Sally happened to be there, and thought 
it a good opportunity to speak. 

“ Mrs. Clifton wishes to take the children with her to 
the sea-side, sir.” 

“ Does she?” replied Mr. Clifton. 

44 And I fear she will make herself very unhappy if they 
do not go, sir.” 

44 Why should they not go?” asked Mr. Clifton. 

He went back to the drawing-room where his wife was 
alone. 

“ Hazel, do you wish to take the children with you?” 

“ Oh, I did wish it so!” she replied, the hectic of hope 
lighting her pale cheeks. 44 If they might but go!” 

44 Of course they may go. It will be a nice change for 
them, as well as you. Why should you hesitate?” 

4 4 The expense,” she timidly whispered, the hectic grow- 
ing deeper^ 

He looked right into her eyes with his pleasant smile. 

44 Expense is no concern of yours, Hazel; it is mine. 
Never let the word expense trouble you until 1 tell you that 
it must.” 

44 It will not increase the cost so very much,” she re- 
turned, her eyes smiling with happiness. 44 And 1 shall 
get well all the sooner for having them with me.” 

44 And to further that, you should take them if it were 
to the end of the world. Why should you study aught but 
your own wishes?” 

She took his hand in her love and gratitude, for every 
tone of his voice spoke of care and tenderness for her. All 
jealous fancies were forgotten, all recollection, in that mo- 
ment, that his manner was calmer than of yore. 

44 Harold, I do believe you care as much for me as you 
used to.” 

He did not understand the words, but he held her to him 
as in days gone by, and kissed her tenderly. 


tail. Clifton - of Farrington. 


115 


** More precious, far more precious to me than of yore, 

Miss Clifton flew out when she heard the decision, and 
frightened her brother to repentance, assuring him that his 
sending the children was the certain way to' preclude all 
chance of the wife's recovery. Mr. Clifton was sorely puz- 
zled between Hazel's wishes and Hazel's welfare; he would 
promote both if he could; but if they flashed— ? He feared 
his own judgment, he feared his wife's; and he appealed to 
medical men. But Fannie had forestalled him there. She 
had contrived so to impress those gentlemen with the in- 
cessant worry the children would prove to Hazel, that they 
pronounced their veto, and forbade the children's going. 

So, after all. Hazel had to resign herself to the disap- 
pointment. 

“ Sally," said she to her maid, “ I shall leave you at 
home; 1 must take Cora instead. " 

“ Oh, my! what have I done?" 

“ You have done all that you ought, Sally, but you must 
stay with the children. If 1 may not take them, the next 
best thing will be to leave them with you. I shall give 
them into your charge, not Miss Clifton's," she said, sink- 
ing her voice. “ If it were Cora who remained, I could not 
do that." 

“ 1 will do whatever you think best. I wish I could at- 
tend you and stay with them, but of course I can not do 
both. " 

“lam sent away to get my health and strength, but it 
may be I shall die, Sally. If I never come back, will you 
promise to remain with my children?" 

Sally felt a creeping sensation in her veins; the sobs arose 
in her throat, but she swallowed them down, and con- 
strained her voice to calmness. 

“ 1 hope you will come back to us as well as you used 
to be. I trust you will, and not give way to low spirits." 

“ 1 sincerely hope and trust I shall," said Hazel, fervent- 
ly. “ Still, there is no telling, for I am very ill. Promise 
me, in case of the worst, that you will remain with the 
children. " 

“ 1 will, as long as 1 am permitted." 

“ And.be kind to them, and love them, and shield them 
from — from — any unkindness that may be put upon them," 


116 MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 

she added, her head full of Miss Clifton. “ And talk to 
them sometimes of their poor mother who is gone.” 

“ 1 will, I will — oh, I will!” 

And Sally sat down in a chair as Hazel quitted the room, 
and burst into tears. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

Mr. Clifton and Hs?zel, with Cora and John in attend- 
ance, arrived at the sea-shore, and proceeded at once to the 
Ocean Hotel. Mr. Clifton thought the journey had done 
Hazel good, for she looked better, and said she already felt 
stronger. Mr. Clifton remained with her three days; he 
had promised only one— but he was pleased with Hazel's re- 
turning glimpses of health. 

The third morning of his stay at the sea-shore, after 
swallowing a hasty breakfast, he returned to his wife's room 
to say farewell. 

“ Good-bye, my love,” he said, stooping to kiss her. 
“Take care of yourself.” 

“Give my love to the darlings, Harold, and — and — ” 

“ And what?” he asked. “1 have not a moment to 
lose. ” 

“ Do not get making love to Lulu Osborne while I am 
away.” 

She spoke in a tone half jesting, half serious. Could he 
but have seen how her heart was beating! Mr. Clifton took 
it wholly as a jest, and went away laughing. 

Had he believed she was serious he could have been lit- 
tle more surprised had she charged him not to go to China. 

Hazel arose later, and lingered over her breakfast, listless 
enough. She was wondering how she could make the next 
few weeks pass; what she should do with her time. She 
had taken two sea-baths since her arrival, but they had ap- 
peared not to agree with her, leaving her low and shivering 
afterward, so it was not deemed advisable that she should 
attempt more. It was a lovely morning, and she deter- 
mined to venture on the beach. 

She went attended by John, took her seat, and told him 
to come for her in an hour. She watched the strollers on 
the beach. She was not long there when there appeared a 
tall, handsome, gentlemanly man. Her eyes fell upon him; 
and — what was it that caused every nerve in her frame to 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


117 


vibrate, every pulse to quicken? Whose form was it that 
was thus advancing, and changing the monotony of her 
mind into a tumult? It was that of one whom she soon 
was to find had never been entirely forgotten. 

Captain Redmond St. CJare came slowly on, approach- 
ing the part of the beach where she sat. He glanced at 
her, not with the hardihood displayed by two young men 
who had just passed, but with quite sufficiently evident ad- 
miration. 

“ What a lovely girl!” thought he to himself. “ Why 
can she be sitting there alone ?” 

All at once a recollection flashed into his mind; he raised 
his hat and extended his hand, his fascinating smile in full 
play. 

“ 1 certainly can not be mistaken. Have 1 not the honor 
of once more meeting Miss Hazel Barrington?” 

She allowed him to take her hand, answering a few words 
at random, for her wits seemed to have gone wool-gather- 
ing. 

“ I beg your pardon — 1 should have said Mrs. Harold 
Clifton. Time has elapsed since we parted, and in the 
pleasure of seeing you again so unexpectedly I thought of 
you as you were then.” 

She sat down again, the brilliant flush of emotion dying 
away on her cheeks. It was the loveliest face Redmond St. 
Clare had seen since last they met, and he thought so as he 
gazed at her. 

“ What can have brought you here?” he inquired, tak- 
ing a seat by her. 

“I have been ill,” she explained, “and have been 
ordered to the sea-side. Mr. Clifton only left me this 
morning.” 

“ You do indeed look ill! Is there anything I can do for 
you?” 

She was aware that she looked unusually ill at that mo- 
ment, for the agitation and the surprise of meeting him 
were fading away, leaving her face of an ashy whiteness. 

She was exceedingly vexed and angry with herself that 
meeting him should have the power to call forth emotion. 
Until that moment she was unconscious that she retained 
any sort of feeling for Captain St. Clare. 

“ Perhaps 1 have ventured out too early,” she said, in a 
tone that would seem to apologize for her looks. “ 1 think 


118 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


I will return. I shall meet my servant, no doubt. Good- 
morning, Captain St. Clare.” 

“ But indeed you do not appear fit to walk alone,” he 
remonstrated. “ You must allow me to see you safely 
home.” 

Drawing her hand within his arm quite as a matter of 
course, as he had done many a time in days gone by, he 
proceeded to assist her down the beach. 

“ Have you seen Mrs. Melborne lately?” 

“ 1 saw her this spring when I was in Boston with Mr. 
Clifton. The first time we have met since my marriage; 
we do not correspond. Mr. Melborne has paid us some 
visits at the Barrington estate. They are in the city yet, I 
believe. ” 

“ For all I know. I have not seen them for a long time. 
1 have not cared to be in the city, and for that reason have 
not seen any of them. My uncle has married again, as I 
hear.” 

“ I heard that your uncle, the Honorable Gaston St. 
Clare, had married.” 

“He is seventy- three — the old simpleton! Of course 
this materially alters my prospects, for it is just possible 
he may have a son of his own now; and my creditors all 
come down on me. They allowed me to run in debt with 
complacency when I was heir to his estate and money, but 
as soon as his marriage appeared in the papers myself and 
my consequence dropped a hundred per cent., credit was 
stopped, and 1 was dunned for payment. So I left the city 
and came down here.” 

“ Leaving your creditors?” 

“ What else could 1 do? My uncle would not pay them 
or increase my allowance. ” 

“ What are your prospects then?” resumed Hazel. 

“ Prospects? Do you see that little ragged boy throw- 
ing stones into the water? — it is well the police don’t drop 
upon him. Ask him what his prospects are, and he would 
stare in your face, and say ‘ none.’ Mine are on a par.” 

“ You may have his money yet.” 

“ 1 may; but I may not. When these old idiots get a 
young wife — ” 

“ Have you quarreled with your uncle?” interrupted 
Hazel. 

“ X should quarrel with him, as he deserves, if it would 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTON. 119 

do any good; but I might get my allowance stopped. Self- 
interest, you see. Hazel, is the order of the day with most 
of us.” 

“ Do you propose staying at the sea-side long?” 

“ 1 donT know. As I may find amusement. The city 
is a fast place, with its heated rooms and late hours, and I 
came down for the refreshment of a few sea dips. Am 1 
walking too fast for you?” 

“ You increased your pace alarmingly when you spoke 
of your uncle Gaston^s marriage. And 1 am not sorry for 
it,” she added, good-naturedly, “ for it has proved to me 
how strong I am getting. A week ago 1 could not have 
walked half so fast.” 

He interrupted with eager apologies, and soon they 
reached her hotel. Captain St. Clare entered with her, 
uninvited. He probably deemed that between old friends 
great ceremony might be dispensed with, and he sat a quar- 
ter of an hour chatting to amuse her. When he arose he 
inquired what she meant to do with herself in the after- 
noon. 

“ To lie down,” replied Hazel. “ I am not strong 
enough to sit up all day.” 

“ Should you be going out again afterward you must 
allow me to take care of you,” he observed. “ I am glad 
that 1 happened to be here, for 1 am sure you are not fit to 
wander out only followed by a servant. When Mr. Clif- 
ton comes he will thank me for my pains.” 

What was she to urge in objection? Simply nothing. 
He spoke, let us not doubt, from a^Cnuine wish to serve 
her, in a plain, easy tone> as any acquaintance might speak. 
Hazel schooled herself severely. If those old feelings were 
not quite dead within her, why, she must smother them 
down again as effectually as if they were; the very fact of 
recognizing such to her heart brought its glow of shame to 
her brow. She would meet Captain St. Clare and suffer 
his companionship as she would that of the most indifferent 
stranger. 

It was just the wrong way for her to go to work. 

As the days passed on Hazel improved wonderfully. She 
was soon able to go to the sands in the mornings and sit 
there to enjoy the sea air. She made no acquaintance in 
the place whatever, and when she had a companion it was 
Captain St, Clare. He would • frequently join her there. 


130 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


sometimes take her, almost always give her his arm home. 
She disliked having to take his arm; her conscience whis- 
pered it might be better if she did not. One day she said 
in a joking way — she would not say it in any other — that 
now she was strong she had no need of his arm or escort. 
He demanded, in evident astonishment, what had arisen 
that he might not still offer it, as her husband was not 
with her to give her his. She had no answer to make to 
this, no excuse to urge, and in default of one took his arm 
as usual. 

In the evening he was always ready to take her to the 
beach; but they sat apart, mixing not with the bustling 
crowd, he lending to his manner as he conversed with her 
all that it could call up of fascination — and fascination such 
as Redmond St. Clare's might be dangerous to any ear in 
the sweet evening twilight. The walk over, he left her at 
her own door. In the evening she never asked him into her 
private parlor, and he did not intrude, as he sometimes 
would of a morning. 

Now, where was the help for this? You may say that she 
should have remained in-doors, and not have to subject her- 
self to his companionship. But the remaining in-doors 
would not improve her health, and it was health that she 
was staying at the sea-side to acquire, and the sooner it 
came the better pleased she would be, for she wanted to be 
at home with her husband and children. 

Two weeks had passed and Mr. Clifton was expected at 
the sea-side. But wliat a marvelous change had this two 
weeks wrought in Hazel! She did not dare to analyze her 
feelings, but she was conscious that all the fresh emotion 
of her youth had come again. The blue sky seemed as of 
sweetest sapphire, the green fields and the waving trees 
were of emerald brightness, the perfume of the flowers was 
more fragrant than any perfume had yet seemed. No 
wonder that she shrunk from self-examination. 

The change from listless languor to her pleasant feelings 
brought the hue and contour of health to her face far 
sooner than anything else could have done. She went 
down with Captain St. Clare to meet her husband the even- 
ing he came in, and when Mr. Clifton saw her he scarcely 
knew her. Her features had lost their sharpness, her 
cheeks wore a rosy flush, and the light of pleasure at meet- 
ing him again shone in her eyes. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


121 


“ What can yon have been doing to yourself, my dar- 
ling?” he uttered in delight as he emerged from the boat 
and took her hands in his. “ You look almost well.” 

“ Yes, 1 am much better, Harold; but I am warm now 
and flushed. We have waited here some time, and the set- 
ting sun was full upon us. How long the boat was coming 
in!” 

“ The wind was dead against us,” replied Mr. Clifton, 
wondering who the exquisite was at his wife's side. He 
thought he remembered his face. 

“ Captain St. Clare,” said Hazel. “ I wrote you word in 
one of my letters that he was here. Have you forgotten it?' ' 

Yes; it had slipped from his memory. 

“And I am pleased that it happened to be so,” said 
that gentleman, interposing, “ for it has enabled me to at- 
tend Mrs. Clifton in some of her walks. She is stronger 
now, but at first she was unfit to venture alone.” 

“ 1 feel much indebted to you,” said Mr. Clifton. 

Hazel had taken her husband's arm, and Kedmond St. 
Clare walked by the side of Mr. Clifton. 

“ To tell you the truth,” he said, dropping his voice so 
that it reached only Mr. Clifton's ear, “ when I met 
Hazel 1 was shocked to see her. I thought her days were 
numbered, that a very short period must close them. 1 
therefore considered it a bounden duty to render her any 
slight service that might be in my power.” 

“ I am sure she has been obliged for } r our attention,” 
responded Mr. Clifton. “ And as to her visible improve- 
ment, it seems little short of a miracle. 1 expected from 
Hazel's letters to me to find her better; but she is more 
than better, she looks well. Do you hear, Hazel ? 1 say 

a miracle must have been wrought to bring back your 
bloom, for two weeks’ space of time could scarcely have 
done it. This must be famous air for invalids.” 

The bloom that Mr. Clifton spoke of deepened to a 
glowing crimson as she listened. She knew — and she could 
not stifle the knowledge, however she might wish to do so 
— that it was not the place or the sea air which had ren- 
ovated her heart and her countenance. But she clasped 
her husband's arm the closer, aud inwardly prayed for 
strength and power to thrust away from her this danger- 
ous foe that was creeping on in guise so insidious. 

“ You have not said a word to me about the children,” 


122 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


exclaimed Hazel, as she and her husband entered the hotel, 
Captain St. Clare not having been invited to enter. “ Did 
they all send me some kisses? Did baby Harold send me 
any?” 

Mr. Clifton laughed. He was not a mother, he was only 
a father. Baby Harold, with his year of age, send kisses! 

“ Had you been away, as I am, he should have sent 
some to you,” murmured Hazel. 44 1 would have taken a 
thousand from him and told him they were for papa. J * 

“ I will take a thousand back to him,” answered Mr. 
Clifton, folding his wife to his heart. 44 My dearest, the 
sight of you has made me glad.” 

The following day was Sunday, and Redmond St. Clare 
was asked to dine with them. After dinner, when Hazel 
left them, he grew confidential with Mr. Clifton, laying 
open all his cargo of troubles. 

44 This compulsory hiding from my creditors is becoming 
intolerable,” he concluded. 44 Do you see any chance of 
my escaping them?” 

“Not the least,” was the candid answer, 44 unless you 
can manage to satisfy, or partially satisfy, your creditors. 
Will not your uncle Gaston assist you?” 

44 1 believe he would were the case fairly represented to 
him. But how am I to get to do it? I have written several 
letters to him lately, and for some time I got no reply. 
Then came an epistle from his wife, not short aijd sweet, 
but short and sour. It was to the effect that my uncle 
was ill, and could not at present be troubled with busi- 
ness. ’ 9 

44 He can not be very ill,” remarked Mr. Clifton; 44 he 
passed through Barrington in his open carriage a week 
ago.” 

44 He ought to help me,” grumbled Captain St. Clare. - 

“ You should contrive to see him.” 

44 1 know I should; but it is impossible under the pres- 
ent circumstances.” 

44 Some one might see him for you.” 

44 Some one? Who?” 

“ Shall I see your uncle Gaston for you?” 

44 Will you?” returned Captain St/ Clare, his dark eyes 
lighting up. 

44 If you like. As your friend, you understand, not as 
your solicitor; that 1 should decline. I have a slight 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


123 


knowledge of Gaston St. Clare, and if 1 can render you any 
little service 1 shall be happy to do so in return for your kind 
attention to my wife. 1 can not promise to see him for 
these two or three weeks,” resumed Mr. Clifton, “ for we 
are terribly busy; otherwise I should be staying here with 
my wife.” 

Captain St. Clare expressed his gratitude, and the pros- 
pect, however remote, of being enabled to return to the 
city increased his spirits to exhilaration. And again thank- 
ing Mr. Clifton, he took his departure. 

“ Harold, 1 have a favor to ask of you,” she timidly be- 
gan, as they sat together after Captain St. Clare’s depart- 
ure. “You must promise to grant it.” 

“ What is it?” 

“ But that is not promising.” 

“ 1 will grant it, Hazel, if it be in my power.” 

“ I want you to remain with me for the rest of the time 
that I must stay here.” 

Mr. Clifton looked at her in surprise. 

“ My dear, how could you think of wishing anything so 
unlikely? It is impossible.” 

“ Oh! Harold, you must remain.” 

“ I wish 1 could; but, as I say, it is impossible. You 
must know it to be so. Hazel. A few weeks later in the 
year, and I could have stayed the wliole of the time with 
you. As it is, I did not know how to get away for these 
two or three days.” 

“ And you go back to-morrow?” 

“ Necessity has no law, my darling.” 

“ Take me with you.” 

Mr. Clifton smiled. 

“No, Hazel, not while I find the change is doing you so 
much good. I took these rooms for six weeks. You must 
remain certainly until the end af the term, if not longer.” 

The color came flowing painfully into her cheeks. 

“ I can not stay without you!” 

“ Tell me why?” smiled Mr. Clifton. 

Tell him why! 

“ I am so dull without you,” was the best argument she 
could offer; but her voice faltered, for she felt that it would 
not be listened to. 

Neither was it. Mr. Clifton left the following day, and 
when he was departing commended his wife to the further 


124 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


attention, of Captain St. Clare. Not the faintest suspicion 
that it might be unwise to do so crossed his mind. How 
should it? Perfectly correct and honorable himself, it 
never occurred to him that Captain St Clare might be less 
so; and as to his wife, he would fearlessly have left her 
alone with him, or with any one else, on a desert island, so 
entire was his confidence in her. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

A week or ten days had passed away since Mr. Clifton’s 
departure, and in Hazel’s health there was a further visi- 
ble improvement. In strength the change was almost be- 
yond belief. She had been walking, for the most part of 
the morning, up and down the beach, and she sat down to 
rest before she started for the hotel. Captain St. Clare 
was her companion, as he usually was in her walks. Shake 
him off, she could not. She had tried a few stratagems — 
going out at unusualjhours, or choosing unfrequented routes; 
but he was sure to trace her steps and come upon her. 
Hazel thought he must watch; probably he did. She would 
not take more decided steps, or say to him, “ You shall 
not join me.” He niight ask an explanation, and Hazel, in 
her conscious state of feeling, avoided that above all things. 

“ It will be but for a little time,” she reflected. “ 1 shall 
soon be gone and leave him, I hope, forever.” 

But meanwhile sh8 felt that this prolonged intercourse 
with him was bringing its fruits, that her cheek flushed at 
his approach, her heart beat with something too like rapt- 
ure. She tried to put it down. Why did she not try and 
stop the breeze as it filled the sails of passing vessels? It 
would not have been a more hopeless task. 

It was a still evening, cool for July, and no sound was 
heard save the sound of the incoming waves, and Hazel sat 
in silence with her companion, her rebellious heart beating 
with a sense of its own happiness. But for the voice of 
conscience strong within her, but for the sense of right 
and wrong, but for existing things; in short, but that she 
was a wife, she might havfe been content so to sit by his 
side forever, never to wish to moye or to break the silence. 

Did he read her feelings? 

“ Do you remember the evening, Hazel, just such a one 


UR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


125 


as this, that we all passed at Richmond,” he suddenly 
asked, 44 your father, Mrs. Melborne, you, I, and others?” 

“ Yes, I remember it. We had spent a pleasant day; 
the* two Miss Herberts were with us. You drove Mrs. 
Melborne home, and 1 went with papa. You drove reck- 
lessly, 1 recollect, and Mrs. Melborne said, when she got 
home, that you should nev T er drive her again.” 

“ Which meant not till the next time. Of all capricious, 
vain, exacting women, Mrs. Melborne was the worst. She's 
a systematic flirt. I drove recklessly on purpose to put 
her in a fright and pay her off.” 

“ What had she done?” 

“ Put me in a rage. She had saddled herself upon me 
when 1 wanted — I wished for another to be my compan- 

4 4 Bertha Herbert?” 

44 Bertha Herbert!” echoed Captain St. Clare, in a 
mocking tone. 44 What did I care for Bertha Herbert?” 

Hazel remembered that he had been supposed in those 
days to care a great deal for Miss Bertha Herbert — a most 
lovely girl of seventeen. 

44 Mrs. Melborne used to accuse you of caring too much 
for her,” she said aloud. 

44 She accused me of caring for some one else more than 
for Bertha Herbert,” he significantly returned, 44 and for 
once her jealous surmises were not misplaced. Ho, Hazel, 
it was not Bertha Herbert I wished to drive home. Could 
you not have given a better guess than that at the time?” 
he added, turning to her. 

There was no mistaking the tone of his voice or the 
glance of his eyes. Hazel felt a crimson flush rising, and 
she turned her face away. 

44 The past is gone and can not be recalled,” he con- 
tinued; 44 but we both played our parts like simpletons. 
If ever two beings were formed to love each other, you and 
I were. I sometimes thought you read my feelings.” 

Surprise had kept her silent, but she interrupted him 
now haughtily enough. 

44 1 must speak. Hazel, a few words, and' then I am 
silent forever. 1 would have declared myself had I dared, 
but my uncertain position, my debts, my inability to keep 
a wife, weighed me down; and instead of appealing to my 
uncle Gaston, as 1 hoped to have done, for the means to 


126 MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRiNGTOFf. 

assume a position that would justify me in asking for Mr* 
William BarringtoiCs daughter, 1 crushed my hopes within 
me, and suffered you to escape — ” 

“ I will not hear this. Captain St. Clare!” she cri<?d, 
rising from her seat in anger. 

He touched her arm to place her on it again. 

“ One single moment yet, I pray you. I have for years 
wished that you should know why I lost you— a loss that 
tells upon me yet. I have literally worked out my own 
folly since. I knew not how passionately I loved you until 
you became the wife of auother. Hazel, I love you pas- 
sionately still !” 

“ How dare you presume so to address me?” 

She spoke in a cold, dignified tone of hauteur , as it was 
her bounden duty to speak. But, nevertheless, she was 
conscious of an undercurrent of feeling whispering that 
under other auspices the avowal would have brought to her 
the most intense bliss. 

“ What I have said can do no harm now,” resumed 
Captain St. Clare; “ the time has gone by for it, for 
neither of us is likely to forget that you are a wife. We 
have each chosen a jiath in life, and must abide by it; the 
gulf between us is impassable; but the fault was mine. 1 
ought to have avowed my affection, and not have suffered 
you to throw yourself away upon Mr. Clifton.” 

“ Throw myself away!” she indignantly uttered, roused 
to the retort. “ Mr. Clifton is my dear husband, esteemed, 
respected, beloved I married him of my own free choice, 
and 1 have never repented it; I have grown more attached 
to him day by day. Look at his noble nature, his noble 
form. What are you by his side? You forget yourself. 
Captain St. Clare!” 

He bit his lips. 

“ No, I do not.” 

“ You are talking to me as you have no right to talk!” 
she exclaimed, in her agitation. “ Who but you would so 
insult me, or take advantage of my unprotected condi- 
tion? Would you dare to do it were Mr. Clifton within 
reach? I wish you good-evening, sir!” 

She walked away as quickly as her tired frame would 
permit. Captain St. Clare strode after her. He took 
forcible possession of her hand and placed it within his 
arm. 


MR. CLIFTON Oft LARRlNGTOfr. 13? 

“ I pray you forgive and forget what has escaped me, 
Hazel. Suffer me to be as before, the kind friend, the 
anxious brother, endeavoring to be of service to you in the 
absence of Mr. Clifton.” 

“ It is what I have suffered you to be, looking upou you 
as, 1 may say, a relative,” she coldly rejoined, withdraw- 
ing her hand from his contact. “ Not else should I have 
permitted your incessant companionship; and this is how 
you have repaid it. My husband thanked you for your at- 
tention to me. Could he have read what was in your false 
heart, he would have offered you a different sort of thanks, 
I fancy.” 

“1 ask you for pardon. Hazel. 1 have acknowledged 
my fault, and 1 can do no more. I will not so offend 
again; but there are moments when our dearest feelings 
break through the rules of life and betray themselves, in 
spite of our sober judgment. Suffer me to support you 
down these steep steps,” he added. “You are not strong 
enough to proceed alone after this evening’s long walk.” 

“You should have thought of that before,” she said, 
some sarcasm in her tone. “ No; 1 have declined.” 

So he put his arm back, which he was holding out, and 
she walked on unsupported, with what strength she had, he 
continuing to walk by her side. Arrived at her hotel, she 
wished him a cold good -evening, and he turned away in 
the direction of his hotel. 

“ Cora, tell John to be in readiness to take a letter to 
the office, and he must walk fast, so that it will go out in 
the last mail.” 

The symptoms of sinful happiness throbbing at her heart 
while Eedmond St. Clare told her of his love spoke plainly 
to Hazel of the expediency fcf withdrawing entirely from 
his society and his dangerous sophistries. She would, she 
vowed, be away from the very place that contained him — 
put miles between them. So she dashed off a letter to her 
husband, an urgent summons that he should come for her 
without delay; for remain longer she would not. It is 
probable she would have started alone, not waiting for Mr. 
Clifton, but for fear of not having sufficient funds for the 
journey after the hotel bill and other things were paid. 

Mr. Clifton, when he received the letter and marked its 
earnest tone, wondered much. In reply he stated he would 
be with her on the following Saturday, and then her re- 


12$ ilR. CLIFTON OF BARRlNGlXXtf. 

turning or not with him would be settled. Fully deter- 
mined not to meet Captain St. Clare in the intervening 
days. Hazel only went out in a carriage. He called once 
and was shown into the parlor, but Hazel, who happened 
to be in her room, sent out a message which was delivered 
by John. 

“ Mrs. Clifton’s compliments, but she must decline re- 
ceiving visitors.” 

Sunday morning — it had been impossible for him to get 
away before — brought Mr. Clifton. He strongly combated 
her wish to return home until the six weeks should have 
expired; he nearly said he would not take her, and she 
grew earnest over it, almost to agitation. 

“ Hazel,” he said, “ let me know your motive, for it ap- 
pears to me that you have one. The sojourn here is evi- 
dently doing you a vast deal of good, and what you urge 
about 4 being dull ’ sounds very like nonsense. Tell me 
what it is?” 

A sudden impulse flashed over her that she would tell 
him the truth. Not tell him that she loved Captain St. 
Clare, or that he had spoken to her as he did; she valued 
her husband too greatly to draw him into any unpleasant- 
ness whose end could not be seen; but own to him that she 
once had a passing fancy for Redmond St. Clare, and pre- 
ferred not to be subjected to his companionship now. Oh! 
that she had done so — her kind, her noble, her judicious 
husband! Why did she not? The whole truth as to her 
present feelings it was not expedient that she should tell; 
but she might have confided to him quite sufficient. He 
would only have cherished her the more deeply, and shel- 
tered her under his fostering care, safe from harm. 

Why did she not? On tbe*impulse of the moment she 
was about to do so, when Mr. Clifton, who had been taking 
a letter from his pocket-book, put it into her hand. Upon 
what slight threads do the events of life turn! Her 
thoughts diverted, she remained silent while she opened 
the letter. It was from Fannie, who had handed it to her 
brother in the moment of his departure, to carry to Hazel 
and save postage. A letter as still as Fannie herself. The 
children were well, and the doings of the house were going 
on well, and she hoped Hazel was better. It filled three 
sides of note-paper, but that was all the news it contained, 
and it wound up with the following sentence: 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 12& 

tc 1 would continue my epistle, but Lulu Osborne, who 
is to spend the day with us, has just arrived.” 

Lulu Osborne spending the day at the Barrington es- 
tate! That item was quite enough for Hazel, and her 
heart and her confidence closed to her husband. 

She must go home to her children, she urged; she could 
not remain longer away from them, and she urged it at 
length with tears. 

“Hazel,” said Mr. Clifton, “if you are so much in 
earnest as this, you shall certainly go back with me.” 

Then she was like a child let loose from school. She 
laughed, she danced in her excess of content, she showered 
kisses on her husband, thanking him in her gleeful grati- 
tude. Mr. Clifton set it down to her love for him; he 
arrived at the conclusion that in reiterating that she could 
not bear to be away from him she spoke the truth. 

“ Hazel,” he said, smiling tenderly upon her, “ do you 
remember, in the first days of our marriage, you told me 
you did not love me, but that the love would come? 1 
think it has.” 

Her face flushed nearly to tears at the word — a bright, 
glowing, all too conscious flush. Mr. Clifton mistook its 
source, and caught her to his heart. 

One day more, and then they — she and that man — 
should be separated by miles! The thought caused her to 
lift up her heart in thankfulness. She knew that to leave 
him would be as though she had left the sun behind her; 
that the other side might for a time be somewhat dreary; 
nevertheless, she fervently thanked Heaven. Oh, reader! 
never doubt the principles of poor Hazel, her reticence of 
mind, her wish and endeavor to do right, her abhorrence 
of wrong. Her spirit was earnest and true, her intentions 
were pure. 

Captain St. Clare paid a visit to Mr. Clifton, and in- 
quired if he had had time to see his uncle Gaston. Not 
yet. Mr. Clifton had been too busy to think of it, but he 
should soon have more leisure on his hands, and would not 
fail him. Such was the reply— the reply of an honorable 
man to a man of dishonor; but of the dishonor Mr. Clifton 
suspected nothing. 

Mr. Clifton, wife, and servants went on board the boat 
in the afternoon in good time, and Captain St. Clare 
greeted them and said farewell as they stepped on the 


130 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON'. 

steamer. Hazel took her seat on the deck, her husband 
standing by her; the ropes were unloosened, and the boat 
moved slowly down the harbor. On the shore stood Red- 
mond St. Clare, watching its progress, watching her. He 
was a bold, unscrupulous man, and there was little doubt 
that the more refined feelings, both of the past and pres- 
ent, he had thought fit to avow for Hazel were to serve a 
purpose. However, he had received his checkmate. 

As he receded from Hazel's view a sensation of relief 
thrilling through her whole frame caused it to shudder, 
and involuntarily she clasped the hand of Mr. Clifton. 

“ You are not cold. Hazel?" he said, bending over her. 

“ Oh, no; lam very comfortable— very happy!" 

“But you were surely shivering?" 

“ At the thought of what 1 could, have done with myself 
had you come away and left me there still, all alone, 
Harold," she continued, in an impassioned whisper. 
“ Never let me go from you again. Keep me by you 
always." 

He smiled as he looked down into her pleading eyes, and 
a whole world of tender response and love might be de- 
tected in his earnest tone. 

“ Always and always. Hazel. It is greater pain to me 
than to you to have you away from me." 

How could she ever doubt him? 


CHAPTER XIX. 

Mr. Clifton mounted his horse one morning and rode 
over to see Mr. Gaston St. Clare. He asked for that gen- 
tleman, but was shown into the presence of Mrs. St. Clare, 
a young and pretty woman dressed showily. She inquired 
his business. 

“ My business, madame, is with Mr. St. Clare." 

“ But Mr. St. Clare is not well enough to attend to busi- 
ness. It upsets him, worries him." 

“ Nevertheless, I am here by his own appointment. 
Twelve o'clock, he mentioned." 

Mrs. St. Clare bit her lip and bowed coldly, and at that 
moment a servant appeared to conduct Mr. Clifton to Mr. 
St. Clare's room. The matter which had taken Mr. Clif- 
ton thither was entered upon immediately — Redmond St. 
Clare, his debts, and his gracelessness. Mr. St. Clare, an 


Mft. CLIFtOtf OF BARRiNGTOH. IS 1 

old gentleman in a velvet skull-cap, particularly enlarged 
upon the latter. 

“ I would pay his debts to-day and set him upon his feet 
again, but that I know 1 should have to do the same thing 
over and over again to the end— as I have done before. 
He is a worthless fellow, and nothing else. ” 

“ His tale drew forth my compassion, and I promised I 
would see you and speak for him,” returned Mr. Clifton. 
44 Of Captain St. Clare’s personal virtues or vices I know 
nothing.” 

“ And the less you know, the better,” growled Mr. St. 
Clare. “ I suppose he wants me to clear him and start 
him afresh?” 

4 4 Something of that sort, 1 conclude.” 

44 But how is it to be done? His affairs are in a state of 
confusion, and nobody can get to the bottom of them with- 
out an explanation from him. Some liabilities for which I 
have furnished the money, the creditors swear, have not yet 
been liquidated. He must come to Barrington if he wants 
anything done.” 

44 Where is he to come to stay when he is here?” 

44 He can’t stay here,” hastily rejoined Mr. St. Clare. 
44 My wife would not have him for a day.” 

44 He might be at the Barrington estate,” good-natured- 
ly observed Mr. Clifton. 44 Nobody would think of look- 
ing for him there. I think it is a pity that you should not 
meet, if you do feel inclined to help him.” 

44 You are a great deal more considerate to him than he 
deserves, Mr. Clifton. May I ask if you intend to act for 
him in a professional capacity?” 

44 No, I do not.” 

A few words, and it was decided that Captain St. Clare 
should be immediately sent for. As Mr. Clifton left Mr. 
St. Clare’s presence, he encountered Mrs. St. Clare. 

44 1 can scarcely be ignorant that your conference with 
my husband has reference to his nephew,” she observed. 

44 It has,” replied Mr. Clifton. 

44 1 have a very bad opinion of him, Mr. Clifton; at the 
same time, I do not wish you to carry away a wrong im- 
pression of me. Redmond St. Clare is my husband’s 
nephew; it may therefore appear strange that I set my 
face so determinedly against him. Two or three years 
ago, previous to my marriage with' Mr. St. Clare, in fact, 


132 MR. CLlRfOtt 6 $ RAltRItfGTOtf. 

before 1 knew my husband, 1 was brought into contact 
with Redmond St. Clare. He was 'acquainted with some 
friends of mine, and at their house I met him. He be- 
haved shamefully; he repaid their hospitality with gross in- 
gratitude. Other details and facts regarding his conduct 
also became known to me. Altogether, 1 believe him to 
be a base and despicable man, both by nature and by in- 
clination, and that he will remain such to the end. 7 " 

“ I know very little indeed of him/ 7 observed Mr. Clif- 
ton. “ May I inquire the nature of his ill conduct in the 
instance you mention? 77 

“ He ruined them— he ruined them, Mr. Clifton. They 
were simple, unsuspicious country people, understanding 
neither fraud nor vice, nor the ways of an evil world. 
Redmond St. Clare got them to put their names to bills, 
‘ as a simple matter of form, to accommodate him for a 
month or so/ he stated, and so they believed. They were 
not wealthy; they lived upon their own small estate in com- 
fort, but with no superfluous money to share, and when the 
time came for them to pay — as come it did— it brought 
ruin, and they had to leave their home. He deliberately 
did it. 1 am certain that Redmond St. Clare deliberately 
did it, knowing what would be the end. And I could tell 
you of other things. My husband may have informed you 
that 1 object to receive him here. 1 do. My objection is 
to the man, to his character; not owing, as 1 hear it has 
been said, to any jealous, paltry feeling touching his being 
heir. 1 must lose my own self-respect before I admit Red- 
mond St. Clare to my house as an inmate. My husband 
may assist him, may pay his debts and get him out of his 
scrapes as often as he pleases, but 1 will not have him 
here! 77 

“ Mr. St. Clare said you declined to receive him. But 
it is necessary he should come here if his affairs are to be 
set straight, and also that he should see Mr. St. Clare. 77 

“ Come here? 77 interrupted Mrs. St. Clare. “ How can 
he come under the present circumstances? 77 

“ There is no other way. I have offered to let him stay 
at the Barrington estate/ 7 replied Mr. Clifton. 

“ Take care that he does not repay your hospitality with 
ingratitude/ 7 warmly returned Mrs. St. Clare. “ It would 
only be in accordance with his practice. 77 

Mr. Clifton laughed. 


MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON". 


133 


“ I do not well see what harm he could do me, allowing 
that he had the inclination. He would not scare my clients 
from me, nor beat my children, and 1 can take care of my 
pocket. A few days, no doubt, will be the extent of his 
stay.” 

Mrs. St. Clare smiled too, and shook hands with Mr. 
Clifton. 

“ In your house perhaps there may be no field for his 
vagaries, but rely upon it, where there is one he is sure to 
be at some mischief. ” 

The visit, of Mr. Clifton to Mr. St. Clare took place on 
Friday morning, and on his return to his office he dis- 
patched an account of it to Captain St. Clare, telling him 
to come at once. But Mr. Clifton, like many another man 
whose brain has its share of work, was sometimes forgetful 
of trifles, and it entirely slipped his memory to mention 
the expected arrival at home. The following evening, 
Saturday, he and Hazel were dining in the neighborhood, 
when the conversation at the table was upon one of their 
neighbors and his embarrassments, and it immediately 
occurred to him that he had not told his wife of Captain 
St. Clare's anticipated visit. He kept it in his mind and 
spoke as soon as they were in the carriage returning home. 

“ Hazel,” he began, “ I suppose we have always rooms 
ready for visitors, because I am expecting one?” 

“ Oh, yes. Or, if not, they are soon made ready.” 

“ Ay, but to-morrow is Sunday, and 1 have no doubt 
that it is the day he will take advantage to come. Iam 
sorry I forgot to mention it yesterday.” 

“ Who is coming?” 

“ Captain St. Clare.” 

“ Who?” repeated Hazel, in a sharp tone of consterna- 
tion. 

“ Captain St. Clare. His uncle consents to see him, 
with a view to the settlement of his liabilities, but Mrs. St. 
Clare declines to receive him at their house. So I offered 
to give him house-room at the Barrington estate for a few 
days.” 

Hazel's heart leaped. She grew dizzy at the words; her 
senses seemed for the moment to desert her; her first sen- 
sation was as if the earth had opened; her second was 
a lively consciousness that Captain St. Clare ought not to 
be suffered to come again into companionship with, her. 


134 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

Mr. Clifton continued to converse of the man's embarrass- 
ments, of his own interview with Mr. St. Clare, of Mrs. St. 
Clare. But Hazel was as one who heard not. She was de- 
bating the question, how could she prevent his coming? 

“ Harold," she said, presently, “ 1 do not wish Captain 
St. Clare to stay at the Barrington estate. " 

“ It will only be for a few days; perhaps for a day or 
two." 

“ That may be," interrupted Hazel, in an accent of im- 
patience; “ but why should he come to our house?" 

“ I proposed it myself. I had no idea you would dislike 
his coming. Why should you?" 

“ I don’t like Redmond St. Clare," she said. “ That is, 
I don’t care to have him at the Barrington estate." 

“ My dear, I feel there is no help for it now; he is most 
likely on his road, and will arrive to-morrow; I can not 
turn him out again, after my own voluntary invitation. 
Had 1 known it would be disagreeable to you, I should not 
have proposed it. Being Sunday, a free day, he will be 
sure to take advantage of it. What has he done that you 
should object to his coming?" 

“ He has done nothing," was her faltering answer, feel- 
ing that her grounds of opposition must melt under one by 
one. 

“ At any rate, his ill doings or well doings can not affect 
us for the short period he is likely to remain. You have 
taken a prejudice against him also, I suppose. Hazel." 

She suffered Mr. Clifton to remain in this belief, and sat 
with clasped hands and a despairing heart, feeling that fate 
was against her. How could she accomplish her task of 
forgetting this man if he was thus to be thrown into her 
home and her companionship? Suddenly she turned to her 
husband and laid her cheek upon his shoulder. 

He thought she was lired. He passed his arm around 
her waist, drew her face to a more comfortable position, 
and bent his own lovingly upon it. It came into her mind, 
as she lay there, to tell him a portion of the truth, as it had 
done once before. It was a strong arm of shelter around 
her, a powerful pillar of protection — he upon whom' she 
leaned. Why did she not confide herself to him as trustingly 
as a little child? Simply because her courage failed her. 
Once, twice, the opening words were upon her lips, but 
come forth they did not; and then the carriage stopped at 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 135 

the Barrington estate, and the opportunity was over. Oh, 
how many a time in after years did Hazel recall that mid- 
night drive with her husband, and wish in vain that she had 
opened his eyes to that dangerous man! 

The following morning proved a wet one, but it cleared 
up in the middle of the day. In the afternoon, however, 
while they were in chtirch, the rain came on again. 

On their return home Mr. Clifton had driven in at the 
gates and was winding up the avenue, when sounds of dis- 
tress were heard, and they saw little Ethel flying toward 
them from the slopes, crying and sobbing in greatest agi- 
tation. Mr. Clifton jumped out and met the child. 

“ Oh, papa, papa! — oh, come, pray come! I think she is 
dead.” 

He took the child in his arms to soothe her. 

“Hush, my little darling; you alarm your mamma! 
Don’t tremble so. Tell me what it is.” 

Ethel told her tale. She had been a naughty child, she 
freely confessed, and had run out in the rain for fun be- 
cause Sally told her not to; she had run in the wet 
grass of the park, down the slopes, Sally after her. And 
Sally had slipped and was lying at the foot of the slope 
with white face, never moving. 

“ Take care of her. Hazel,” said Mr. Clifton, placing 
the agitated and repentant child by his wife’s side. “ She 
says Sally has fallen down the slopes. No, do not come; I 
will go first and see what it is.” 

Sally was lying just as she fell, at the foot of the slope. 
But her eyes were open now, and if she had fainted— as 
might have been inferred from the little girl’s words — she 
had recovered consciousness. 

“ Oh, Mr. Clifton, don’t try to move me! 1 fear my leg 
is broken.” 

He did, however, essay gently to raise her, but she 
screamed with pain, and he found he must wait for assist- 
ance. 

“ I trust you are not much hurt,” he kindly said. 
“ How did it happen?” » 

“ Miss Ethel ran out, sir, in all the rain and wet, and I 
went after her to bring her back again. But the slope is 
slippery and down 1 went, and just at first I remembered 
nothing more. ” 

Mr, Clifton dispatched John for the doctor, and with 


136 MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 

the aid of the servants, who were soon from church, Sally 
was carried in and laid on a bed. Mr. Clifton and Hazel 
remained with her. Miss Clifton also was there, fidgeting 
and banging about getting things ready that she fancied 
might be wanted, and pressing cordials upon Sally which 
the latter could not take. Miss Clifton’s frame of mind, 
between sympathy and anger, was rather an explosive one; 
altogether she did more harm than good. Little Ethel 
stole in, and drew her mother away from the bed. 

“Mamma,” she whispered, “ there is a strange gentle- 
man down-stairs. He came in a carriage. He has got a 
gripsack, and he is asking for you and papa.” 

Hazel turned sick with apprehension. Was he really 
come? 

“ Who is it, Ethel?” she said by way of making some 
answer. She guessed but too well. 

“ I don’t know. I don’t like him, mamma. He laid 
hold of me and held me tight, and there was an ugly look 
in his eyes.” 

“ Go round the bed and tell your papa that a stranger is 
down -stairs,” said Hazel. 

“ Mamma,” shivered the child, before she stirred to 
obey, “ will Sally die?” 

“No, dear; I hope not.” 

“ Because you know it will be my fault. Oh, mamma, 
I am so sorry! What can I do?” 

“ Hush! If you sob it will make Sally worse. Go and 
whisper to papa about the gentleman.” 

“ But will Sally ever forgive me?” 

“ She has forgiven you already, 1 am sure, Ethel; but 
you must be all the more obedient to her for the future. 
Go to papa, my dear, as I tell you.” 

The stranger was of course Captain St. Clare. Mr. 
Clifton went down to receive and entertain him. Hazel 
did not, the accident to her maid being put forth as an ex- 
cuse. 

The doctor pronounced the injury to be a fracture of the 
ankle-bone. It might have been much worse, he observed; 
but Sally would be confined to her bed for three or four 
weeks. 

“ Sally,” whispered Ethel, “ I’ll come and read my 
beautiful book of fairy tales^ with the pictures; you will liko 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 137 

to hear them. There’s one about a princess who was locked 
up in a castle with nothing to eat. ” 

Sally faintly smiled and took the child’s eager hand in 
hers. Later in the evening, Ethel and Frank were in the 
room with Mr. Clifton. 

“ These are fine children,” observed Redmond St. Clare. 
“ Beautiful faces!” 

“ They resemble their mother much, 1 think,” was the 
reply of Mr. Clifton. 

“ Young lady, 1 must take possession of you,” said Cap- 
tain St. Clare, extending his hand and pulling Ethel toward 
him. “ You ran away from me when I first came, and 
would not tell me what your name was.” 

“ 1 ran away to tell mamma that you had come; she was 
with Sally.” 

“Sally! Who is Sally?” 

“ Hazel’s maid,” interposed Mr. Clifton. “ The one to 
whom, as I told you, the accident had just happened. A 
particularly valued servant in our family. ” 

At this moment, Ethel, having been trying in vain to 
escape from Captain St. Clare, burst into tears. 

“ Oh, papa, X don’t like him to hold me!” ignoring all 
ceremony. 

Captain St. Clare laughed, and held her tighter. But 
Mr. Clifton arose, and with quiet authority drew away the 
child, and placed her on his own knee. She hid her face 
upon his breast, and put up her little hands around his 
neck. 

“ Papa, I don’t like him,” she whispered, softly. “ I 
am afraid of him. Don’t let him take me again. ” 

Mr. Clifton’s only answer was to press her to him. 

“ You are not accustomed to children. Captain St. 
Clare,” he observed. “ They are curious little sensitive 
plants. ” 

“ They must be a great worry,” was the rejoinder. 
“ This accident to your servant must be a serious one. It 
will confine her to her bed for some time?” 

“ Four weeks, the doctor says. And no possibility of her 
getting up from it. ” 

Captain St. Clare arose and caught hold of Frank in ap- 
parent glee, and swung him around. The boy laughed, 
unlike his sister, and seemed to enjoy the fun. 


138 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


CHAPTER XX. 

The next day broke bright, warm, and cloudless, and the 
morning sun streamed into Mrs. Osborne's room. She had 
not risen yet. The judge had gone down to breakfast and 
reported the fact that Mrs. Osborne was ill and would not 
be down. A minute or two, and up ran Lulu, looking 
bright and fair as the morning, her pink muslin dress with 
its ribbons and its open white lace sleeves as pretty as she 
was. She leaned over to kiss her mother. 

“ Mamma, are you ill? And j^ouhave been so well late- 
ly; you went to bed so well last night! Papa says — " 

“ Lulu dear," interrupted Mrs. Osborne, glancing round 
the room with . dread, and speaking in a deep whisper, “ I 
have had one of those dreadful dreams again." 

“ And it is so long since you had one of those disagree- 
able dreams! Why, how long is it, mamma?" 

“ So long. Lulu, that the dread of them had nearly left 
me. I scarcely think 1 have had one since that stolen visit 
of Tom's years ago. " 

“ Was it a very bad dream, mamma?" 

“ Oh, child, yes. I dreamed that the real murderer 
came to Barrington! that he was with us here, and we — " 

At this moment the door was flung open and the face of 
the judge, especially stern and cross then, was put in. So 
startled was Mrs. Osborne that she trembled till she shook 
the pillow, and Lulu sprung away from the bed. Surely he 
had not distinguished their topic of conversation! 

“ Are you coming to breakfast to-day or not. Lulu? Do 
you expect me to take my breakfast alone?" 

“ She is coming this instant, Thomas," said Mrs. Os- 
borne, her voice more faint than usual. And the judge 
turned and stamped down the stairs again. 

“ Lulu, could your papa have heard me mention Tom?" 

“ No, no, mamma— impossible; the door was shut. I 
will bring up your breakfast myself, and then you can tell 
me about the dream. " 

Lulu flew after Mr. Osborne and poured out his coffee. 
After breakfast was over, and the judge had left the house. 
Lulu returned upstairs with her mamma's breakfast of 
coffee and toast. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 139 

“ Did you dream of Tom, mamma?” asked Lulu, when 
Mrs. Osborne had finished her breakfast. 

“Not very much of Tom, except that old and continu- 
ous trouble of his being away and unable to return seemed 
to pervade it all through. You remember. Lulu, Tom as- 
serted to us that night when he came here that he did not 
commit the murder; that it was another who did.” 

“ Yes, I remember it,” replied Lulu. 

“ Lulu, 1 am convinced he spoke the truth; 1 trust him 
implicitly.” 

“ I feel sure/of it also, mamma.” 

“ I asked him, you remember, whether it was Gurdy 
Hood who committed it, for 1 have always doubted Hood 
in an indefinite, vague manner. Tom replied that it was 
not Hood, but a stranger. Well, Lulu, in my dream I 
thought that stranger came to Barrington; that he came 
to this house, here, and we were talking to him of it, con- 
versing as we might with any other visitor. Mind you, we 
seemed to know that he was the one who actually did it; 
but he denied it; he wanted to put it upon Tom, and 1 saw 
him — yes I did, Lulu — whisper to Gurdy Hood. But, oh! 
I can not tell you the sickening horror that was upon me 
throughout, and seemed to be upon you also, lest he should 
make good his own apparent innocence and crush Tom, 
his victim. I think the dread and horror awoke me.” 

“ What was this stranger like?” asked Lulu. 

“ Well, 1 can not quite tell you; the recollection of his 
appearance seemed to pass away from me with the dream. 
He was dressed as a gentleman, and we conversed with him 
as an equal.” 

Lull's mind was full of Captain Tilford, but his name 
had not been mentioned to Mrs. Osborne, neither would 
she mention it now. She fell into deep thought, and Mrs. 
Osborne had to speak twice before she could be aroused. 

“Lulu, I say, don't you think that this dream, coming 
uncalled for, uninduced, must forbode some ill? Bely 
upon it, something connected with that wretched murder 
is going to be stirred up again.” 

“ 1 wish you could remember what the man was like in 
your dream.” 

“ 1 wish 1 could,” answered Mrs. Osborne; “all 1 re- 
member is that he appeared to be a gentleman.” 

“ Was he tall? Had he black hair?” 


140 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

Mrs. Osborne shook her head. 

“ I tell you, my dear, the remembrance has passed irom 
me; so whether his hair was black or light I can not say. 
I think he was tall; but he was sitting, and Gurdy Hood 
stood behind his chair. I seemed to feel that Tom was out- 
side the door, in hiding, trembling lest the man should go 
out and see him there; and I trembled too. Oh, Lulu, it 
was a distressing dream!” 

“ I wish you could avoid having them, mamma, for they 
seem to upset you very much. ” 

“ Why did you ask me whether the man had black hair?” 

Lulu returned an evasive answer. It would not do to 
tell her mother that her suspicions pointed to one partic- 
ular quarter; it would have agitated her too much. 

“ So vivid was the dream, so matter-of-fact and like 
reality, that even when I awoke I could not for some min- 
utes believe but the murderer was actually at Barrington,” 
resumed Mrs. Osborne. “ The impression that he is here, 
or is coming here, is upon me yet; a sort of undercurrent 
of impression, you understand. Lulu. Of course my own 
good sense tells me that it is no real foundation for suppos- 
ing such to be the case. Oh, Lulu, Lulu!” she added, in 
a tone of wailing, as she let her head droop forward in its 
pain till it rested on her daughter’s arm, “ when will 
this unhappy state of things end? One year glides away 
and another comes; year after year they drag on, and I can 
not see my poor boy!” 

Lulu spoke not. What sympathy or comfort could she 
offer in words? The case admitted of none; but she pressed 
her lips upon her mother’s pale forehead. 

“ Child, 1 am getting sick — sick to hear of poor Tom. 
My heart aches for the sight of him,” went on the poor 
lady. “ Seven years next spring it will be since he stole 
here to see us. Seven years and not a look at his beloved 
face, not a word of news from him to say that he is yet 
alive! Was any mother ever tried as I am tried?” 

“ Dear mamma, don’t; .you will make yourself ill.” 

“ I am ill already. Lulu. ” 

“ Yes, but this grief and emotion will render you worse. 
People say that the seventh year always brings a change; 
it may bring one as regards Tom. It may bring him home 
to us free. Do not despair.” 

“ Child, I d r o not despair, despondency I can not help 


MR. CLIFTOK OR RARRmGTOK. 


141 


at times feeling, but it lias not reached despair. I believe, 
I truly believe that the one who did the deed will be found 
out.” 

With the arrival of Captain St. Clare at the Barrington 
estate all the jealous feeling touching her husband and Lulu 
Osborne was renewed, and with greater force than ever. 
Lulu, painfully anxious that something should be brought 
to light by which her brother should be exonerated 
from the terrible charge under which he lay, fully be- 
lieving that Captain Tilford was the man who had com- 
mitted the crime, as asserted by Tom, was in a state of ex- 
citement bordering on frenzy. The evening following the 
dream Lulu was taking a walk, and when she arrived on 
the path nearest the road she saw Gurdy Hood coming 
toward her. Gurdy, who by nature was not famed for his 
politeness, was blunt of manner and “ fast ” by habit. 

“ Say, Lu, are you good for a few picnics?” 

“ Good for a great many,” returned Lulu. 

“ Our girls want to get some up in the next week or two. 
Jack is at home, you know.” 

“ Is he?” said Lulu, in surprise. 

“ We had the letter yesterday, and he came to-day, a 
friend with him. So mind you, keep yourself in readiness 
for any fun that may turn up. Good-evening/’ 

As Lulu was returning his salutation she became con- 
scious of other footsteps advancing from the same direction 
whence he had come, and turning her head hastily around, 
saw two gentlemen walking arm in arm close upon her, in 
one of whom she recognized “Jack,” otherwise Mr. John 
Hood. He stopped and held out his hand. 

“ It is some years since we met, but I have not forgotten 
the pretty face of Lulu Osborne,” he said. “A young 
girTs face it was then, but it is a stately young lady’s face 
now.” 

Lulu laughed. 

“ Your brother told me you had arrived at Barrington; 
but I did not know you were so close to me. He has been 
asking me if 1 am ready for some pic — ” 

Lulu’s* voice faltered, and the rushing crimson dyed her 
face. Whose face was that, who was he standing oppo- 
site her? 

Mr. Hood may have deemed that Lulu, who was not at- 


142 MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRlNG'lOFf. 

tending to him, but to his companion, wished for an intro- 
duction, and he accordingly made it. 

“ Captain Tilford— Miss Osborne. ” 

Then Lulu roused herself. Her senses were partially com- 
ing to her, and she became aware of the fact that they 
must deem her behavior unorthodox for a young lady. 

“ I — I — looked at Captain Tilford, for I thought I re- 
membered his face,” she stammered. 

“ I was in Barrington for a day or two some five years 
ago,” he observed. 

“ Ah— yes,” returned Lulu. “ Are you going to make a 
long stay now?” 

“ I think several weeks; I can not say for certain.” 

Lulu parted from them, thought upon thought rush- 
ing upon her brain. What should she do? Her first thoughts 
were to tell Mr. Clifton as soon as possible. She knew her 
mother would not miss her for the next hour, and her 
father would not be home until midnight. With this 
thought she did not stop to consider anything but that she 
wanted Mr. Clifton to know Captain Tilford was in Bar- 
rington; so away she flew over the fields to the Barrington 
estate. She ran up the steps and rang the bell in such 
haste that she soon brought John and Mr. Clifton to the 
door. Mr. Clifton in his surprise at seeing Lulu there, and 
so excited, took her hand to try to draw her within, but 
she earnestly declined, and asked him if he would come 
out, as she wanted to see him. Certainly he would, if she 
would not come in. What had he to conceal? Why should 
he not? Hazel and Captain St. Clare arrived in the hall 
just in time to see who was there, and as they left the steps 
went to one of the hall windows and watched them walk 
away in the moonlight. Never since their marriage had 
Hazel s jealousy been excited as it was then. 

“ I — I feel — 1 scarcely know whether I am awake or 
dreaming,” began Lulu, putting up her hands to her brow, 
and speaking in a dreamy tone. “ Pardon me for bringing 
you out in this unceremonious fashion.” 

“ What state secrets have you to disclose?” asked Mr. 
Clifton, in a jesting manner. 

“ Mamma had one of her dreams last night, and she told 
me this morning the impression it left upon her mind — 
that the murderer was at Barrington — was so vivid that, in 


ME. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON". 143 

spite of common sense, she could not persuade herself that 
he was not. Well just now — ” 

“ Lulu, what can be the matter?” said Mr. Clifton, per- 
ceiving that her agitation was so great as to impede her 
words. 

“ I have just seen him,” she rejoined. 

“ Seen him!” echoed Mr. Clifton, looking at her fixed- 
ly, a doubt crossing his mind whether Lulu's mind might 
be as uncollected as her manner. 

“Yes, 1 have just been introduced to Captain Tilford. 
He is here for a few weeks' stay with John Hood. Do you 
wonder that I know not whether I am awake or dream- 
ing?” 

“ It is a singular coincidence!” exclaimed Mr. Clifton. 

“ What must be our course in regard to Tilford?” 

“It is more than 1 can tell you,” replied Mr. Clifton. 
“ I can not go up to the man and unceremoniously accuse 
him of being TruesdelFs murderer. In the first place. 
Lulu, we are not positively sure that he is the man spoken 
of by Tom.” 

“ Oh, Harold! how can you doubt it? The extraordinary 
fact of his appearing here at this moment, coupled with 
mamma's dream, might assure you of it.” 

“ Not quite,” smiled Mr. Clifton. “All we can do is 
to go cautiously to work and endeavor to ascertain whether 
he is the same. ” 

“ And there is no way for you to do it!” wailed Lulu. 

Mr. Clifton did not leave Lulu until he saw her safe in 
her own house. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

But now look at xhe mean treachery of Captain St. 
Clare! The few meetings that Hazel witnessed between 
her husband and Lulu would have been quite enough to 
excite her anger and jealousy, and to trouble her peace; 
but, in addition, Captain St. Clare took care to tell her of 
those she did not see. It pleased him — he could best tell 
his own motive — to watch the movements of Mr. Clifton 
and Lulu. 

There was a hedge pathway through the fields on the 
opposite side of the road to the residence of Judge Osborne, 
and as Mr. Clifton walked down the road to business, in 


144 


MR. CLlFTCW OF BARRlNGTOtf* 


his unconQjern, Captain St. Clare would stroll down like a 
serpent behind the hedge, watching all his movements, 
watching his interviews with Lulu, if any took place, 
watching Mr. Clifton turn into Judge Osborne’s, as he 
sometimes did, and perhaps watch Lulu run out of the 
house to meet him. It was all retailed with miserable ex- 
aggeration to Hazel, whose jealousy naturally grew feverish 
in its extent. It is scarcely necessary to explain that of 
Hazel’s jealousy Lulu knew nothing; not a shadow of sus- 
picion had ever penetrated to her mind that Hazel was 
jealous of her. 

Had she been told that such was the fact, she would have 
laughed in derision at her informant. Mr. Clifton’s hap- 
py wife, proudly secured in her position and his affection, 
jealous of her! Of her, to whom he never gave an admir- 
ing look or a loving word! It would have taken a good 
deal to make Lulu believe that. 

How different were the facts in reality. These meetings 
of Mr. Clifton and Lulu, instead of being episodes of love- 
making and tender speeches, were positively painful to 
Lulu from the unhappy nature of the subject discussed. 
Far from feeling a reprehensible pleasure in seeking the 
meetings with Mr. Clifton, Lulu shrunk from them; but 
that she was urged by dire necessity, in the interests of 
Tom, she would wholly have avoided them. Poor Lulu! 
in spite of that explosion of feeling years back, was a lady, 
possessed of a lady’s ideas and feelings; and, remembering 
that explosion, it did not at all accord with her meetings 
with Harold Clifton. But Lulu, in her love for her broth- 
er, pressed down all thought of self and went perseveringly 
forward for Tom’s sake. 

Mr. Clifton was sitting one morning in his private room 
at his office, when Mr. Faber came in. 

“ A gentleman is asking to see you, Mr. Clifton.” 

“ I am too busy to see anybody for this hour to come. 
You know that, Faber.” 

“ So 1 told him, sir, and he says he will wait. It is Cap- 
tain Tilford, who is staying with John Hood.” 

Mr. Clifton raised his eyes, and they encountered those 
of the old man. A peculiar expression was in the face of 
both. Mr. Clifton glanced down at the paper he was 
perusing, as if calculating his time. Then he looked up 
again, and said: 


MR. CLIFTON OF BABBINGTON. 


145 


u 1 will see him, Faber. Send him in.” 

The business leading to his visit was quite simpie. Cap- 
tain Tilford had got himself into trouble about <£ a bill,” 
as too many other captains do, on occasions, and he had 
come to get advice from Mr. Clifton. 

Mr. Clifton felt dubious as to giving it. This Captain 
Tilford was a pleasant man who won much on acquaint- 
ance-one whom Mr. Clifton would have been pleased, from 
a friendly point of view and setting professional interests 
apart, to help out of his difficulties; but if he were the 
villain they suspected him to be, the man with crime upon 
his hands, then Mr. Clifton would have ordered him out at 
short notice. 

“ Can not you advise me what my course ought to be?” 
he inquired, detecting Mr. Clifton's hesitation. 

“ I could advise you, certainly; but — you must excuse 
my being plain. Captain Tilford — I like to know who my 
clients are before I take up their cause or accept them as 
clients.” 

“I am able to pay you,” was Captain Tilford's reply. 
“ I am not short of ready money, only this bill.” 

Mr. Clifton laughed out. 

“ It was a natural inference of yours,” he said; “ but I 
assure you 1 was not thinking of your purse. My father 
held it right never to undertake business for a stranger. 
Unless a man was good and his cause was good, he did not 
entertain it; and I have acted on the same principle. By 
these means, the position and character of our business is 
such as is rarely attained by solicitors. Now, in saying 
that you are a stranger to me 1 am not casting any doubt 
upon you, Captain Tilford. I am merely upholding my 
common practice.” 

“ My family is well connected,” was Captain Tilford's 
next venture. 

“ Excuse me; family has nothing to do with it. If the 
poorest day-laborer, if a pauper out of the poor-house came 
to me for advice, he should be heartily welcome to it, pro- 
viding he were an honest man. Again I repeat, you must 
take no offense at what I say, for I cast no reflection on 
you. 1 only urge that you and your character are un- 
known to me.” 

Curious words from a lawyer to a client, and Captain 
Tilford found them so. But Mr, Clifton's tone was so 


146 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

courteous, his manner so affable, in fact, he was so thor- 
oughly the gentleman that it was impossible to feel hurt. 

“ Well, how can I convince you that I am respectable? 
Inquire of John Hood. The Hoods, too, are friends of 
yours, and they have not disdained to make me welcome 
in their family.” 

“ True,” returned Mr. Clifton, feeling that he could not 
well object further, and also that all men should be deemed 
innocent until proved guilty. “ At any rate, 1 will advise 
you what must be done at present,” he added, “ though if 
the affair must go on, I do not promise that 1 can con- 
tinue to act for you; I am very busy just now. ” 

Captain Tilford explained his dilemma, and Mr. Clifton 
told him what to do in it. 

“ Were you not at Barrington some ten years ago?” he 
suddenly inquired at the close of the conversation. “ You 
denied it to me once at my house; but I concluded, from 
an observation you let fall that you had been here.” 

“ Yes, I was,” replied Captain Tilford, in a confidential 
tone. “ I don't mind owning it to you in confidence; but 
1 do not wish it to get abroad. The fact is, that when 1 
was a careless young fellow I was stopping a few miles 
from here, and got into a scrape through a— a — in short, 
it was an affair of gallantry. I did not show out very well 
at the time, and I don't care that it should be known I 
am in the country again.” 

Mr. Clifton's pulses — for Tom Osborne's sake— beat a 
shade quicker. The avowal, “ an affair of gallantry,” was 
almost a confirmation of his suspicions. 

“Yes,” he pointedly said; “the girl was Kate Trues- 
dell.” 

“ Kate— who?” repeated Captain Tilford, opening his 
eyes and fixing them on Mr. Clifton's. 

“ Kate Truesdell.” 

Captain Tilford continued to look at Mr. Clifton, an 
amused expression, rather than any other, predominant on 
his features. 

“ You are mistaken,” he observed. “ Kate Truesdell? 
I never heard the name before in my life.” 

“ Hid you never hear or know, that a dreadful tragedy 
was enacted in this place about that time?” returned Mr. 
Clifton, in a low, meaning tone. “ That Kate Truesdell 's 
father — ” 


Mft. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 14? 

“ Oh, yes, yes, yes!” hastily interrupted Captain Til- 
ford. “I am telling a story in saying 1 never heard the 
name. Kate Truesdell? Why, that’s the girl John Hood 
was telling me about. W’ho — what was it? — disappeared 
after her father was murdered—” 

“ Murdered in his own cottage, almost in Kate’s pres- 
ence; murdered by — by — ” Mr. Clifton recollected him- 
self; he had spoken more impulsively than was his custom. 
“ Truesdell was my father’s faithful clerk for many years,” 
he more calmly concluded. 

“ And he who committed the murder was young Os- 
borne, son of Judge Osborne, and brother to that attract- 
ive girl, Lulu. Your speaking of this has recalled what 
they told me to my recollection. The first evening I was 
at the Hoods’, Judge Osborne and a half dozen others were 
smoking. 1 also saw Miss Osborne that evening at your 
park gate, and John told me of the murder. An awful 
calamity for, the Osbornes! 1 suppose that is the reason 
the young lady is Miss Osborne still. One with her good 
fortune and good looks ought to have changed her name 
ere this.” 

“ No, it is not the reason,” resumed Mr. Clifton. 

“ What is the reason, then?” 

A faint flush tinged the brow of Mr. Clifton. 

“ 1 know more than one who would be glad to get Lulu, 
in spite of the murder. Do not deprecate Miss Osborne.” 

“ Not I, indeed; I like the young lady too well,” replied 
Captain Tilford. “ The girl Kate has never been heard 
of since, has she?” 

“Never,” said Mr. Clifton. “Did you know her 
well?” he deliberately added. 

“ 1 never knew her at all, if you mean Kate Truesdell. 
Why should you think I did? I never heard of her till 
Jack Hood amused me with the history.” 

Mr. Clifton devoutly wished he could tell whether the 
man before him was telling the truth. 

“ Kate’s favors — I mean her smiles and chatter— were 
pretty freely dispensed, for she was heedless and vain. 
Amid others who got the credit of basking in her rays was 
a gentleman of the name of Tilford. Was it not your- 
self?” 

Captain Tilford stroked his mustache with an air that 


148 MR. CI/IFTOX OF BARRiMGTOM. 

seemed to say he could not boast of his share of such bask- 
ings; in short, as if he felt half inclined to do it. 

“ Upon my word,” he simpered, “ you do me much 
honor. 1 can not confess to having been favored by Miss 
Kate.” 

“ Then she was not the person you speak of who drove 
you — if I understood it aright — from the locality?” re- 
sumed Mr. Clifton, fixing his eyes upon him so as to take 
in every tone of the answer and shade of the countenance 
as he gave it. 

“ I should think not indeed. It was a married lady — 
more’s the pity; young and pretty, vain and heedless, as 
you represented this Kate. Things went smoother after a 
time, and she and her husband — a stupid country fellow — 
became reconciled; but 1 have been ashamed of the affair 
ever since — doubly ashamed of it since I have grown wiser 
— and I do not care ever to be recognized as an actor in it, 
or to have it raked up against me.” 

Captain Tilford arose and took a somewhat hasty leave. 
Was he, or was he not the man? Mr. Clifton could not 
solve the doubt. Mr. Faber came in as he disappeared, 
closed the door, and advanced to Mr.' Clifton, speaking in 
an undertone: 

“ Mr. Clifton, has it struck you that the gentleman just 
gone out may be the Captain Tilford you once spoke to me 
about — he who had used to gallop over from Hillsdale to 
see — Kate Truesdell?” 

“ It has struck me so most forcibly,” replied Mr. Clif- 
ton. “ Faber, I would give five hundred dollars out of 
my pocket this moment to be assured of the fact — if he is 
the same.” 

“ I have seen him several times since he has been staying 
with the Hoods,” pursued the old gentleman, “ and my 
doubts have naturally been excited as to whether it could 
be the man in question. Curiously enough, Garfield, the 
doctor, was over from Hillsdale yesterday, and as I was 
walking with him arm in arm we met Captain Tilford. 
The two recognized each other and bowed, but merely as 
distant acquaintances. 

“ ‘ Do you know that gentleman?’ said I to Garfield. 

“ ‘ Yes,’ he answered; ‘ it is Mr. Northrop.’ 

“ 4 Mr. Northrop, with something added to it,’ said 1: 
4 his name- is Tilford. ’ 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 149 

44 4 I know that/ said Garfield; 4 but when he was in 
Hillsdale, some years ago, he chose to drop the Tilford, 
and the town in general knew him only as Mr. Northrop. * 
44 4 What was he doing there?* I asked. 

44 4 Amusing himself and getting into mischief/ was the 
answer; 4 nothing very bad, only the random scrapes of 
young men.* 

4 4 4 Was he often on horseback, riding to a distance?* 
was my next question. 

4 4 4 Yes, that he was/ replied the doctor, 4 none more 
fond of galloping across the country than he. I used to 
tell him he*d ride his horse to death.* ** 

44 Now, Mr. Clifton, what do you think?** concluded the 
clerk, 44 and so far as 1 could make out, this was about the 
same time of the tragedy at TruesdelPs.** 

44 Think?** replied Mr. Clifton. 44 What can I think, 
but that it is the same man? 1 am convinced of it now.** 
And leaning back in his chair, he fell into a deep reverie, 
regardless of the papers that lay before him. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

The weeks went on — two or three — and things seemed 
to be progressing slowly. Captain St. Clare*s affairs — that 
is, the adjustment of them — did not advance at all. He 
had been three times over to see his uncle, securely boxed 
up in Mr. Clifton*s close carriage from the prying eyes of 
beholders; but his uncle seemed to be turning as obdurate 
as the creditors. Captain St. Clare had deceived him, he 
found out, inasmuch as certain sums of money, handed 
over by Mr. St. Clare some time back to settle certain 
claims, had been by the captain appropriated to his own 
purposes. Mr. St. Clare did not appear inclined to for- 
give the deceit, and vowed he would not pay his debts yet 
awhile. There was nothing for him to do but leave Bar- 
rington. He apparently meant what he said, for when the 
captain arose to leave Mr. St. Clare handed him money 
enough to pay his expenses away, and told him that his 
allowance would be continued as usual. 

44 How did you succeed with your uncle to-day?** in- 
quired Mr. Clifton, that evening at dinner, when his guest 
was l?ack at the Barrington estate, 


150 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“ Middling,” replied Redmond St. Clare. “ 1 did not 
do much with him. These old fogies like to take their own 
time over things.” 

An answer false as he was. It did not suit his plans to 
leave the Barrington estate yet, and, had he told the truth, 
he would have had no plea for remaining. 

Another thing that was going on fast to bad, instead of 
to good, was the jealousy of Hazel. 

How could it be otherwise, kept up as it was by Lulu’s 
frequent meetings with Mr. Clifton, and by Captain St. 
Clare’s comments and false insinuations regarding them? 
Discontented with herself and with everybody about her, 
Hazel wa$ living now in a state of excitement — a danger- 
ous resentment against her husband working in her heart. 
That very day — the one of Captain St. Clare’s visit to his 
uncle— in driving through Barrington in her pony-carriage 
she had come upon her husband in close converse with 
Lulu Osborne. So absorbed were they that they never saw 
her, though her carriage passed close to the pavement 
where they stood. 

On the morning following, as the Osborne family were 
seated at breakfast, the postman was seen coming toward 
the house. Lulu sprung from her seat to the open win- 
dow, and the man advanced to her. 

“ Only one, miss. It is for yourself.” 

“ Whom is it from?” began the judge, as Lulu returned 
to her chair. 

In letters as well as in other things he was curious to 
know their contents, whether they might be addressed to 
him or not. 

“ It is from Mary, papa,” replied Lulu, as she laid the 
letter by her side on the table. 

“ Why don’t you open it and see what she says?” 

“ I will directly. I am just going to pour out some 
coffee for mamma.” 

Lulu handed her mamma the coffee, and then took up 
her letter. As she opened it a small bit of paper, folded, 
fell upon her lap. Fortunately, most fortunately, Judge 
Osborne, who at that moment had his nose in his coffee- 
cup, did not see it; but Mrs. Osborne did. 

“ Lulu, you have dropped something.” 

Lulu had seen also, and was clutching at the “ some- 
thing ” with almost a guilty movement. She had no ready 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 151 

answer at hand, but bent her eyes upon the letter, and 
Mrs. Osborne spoke again. 

“ My dear, something dropped on your lap.” 

“Don’t you hear your mamma, young lady?” pursued 
the judge. “ What is it that you have dropped?” 

Lulu, with a crimson face of heat, arose from her chair 
and shook out her pretty muslin dress — somehow. Lulu’s 
dresses were always pretty. 

“ There’s nothing at all, papa — nothing that I can see;” 
and in sitting down she contrived to give her mother a 
warning look which silenced Mrs. Osborne. 

Then Lulu read her sister’s letter and laid it open on 
the table for the benefit of anybody else who might like to 
do the same. 

The judge snatched it up, taking first benefit to himself 
— as he was sure to do. He threw it down, grumbling: 

“ Not much in it. 1 think I’ll have a cup more of 
coffee.” 

Finally the judge finished his breakfast, and strolled out 
into the garden. Mrs. Osborne turned to Lulu. 

“ My dear, why did you give me that mysterious look? 
And what was it that dropped upon your lap? It seemed 
to drop from Mary’s letter. ” 

“■ Well, mamma, it did fall from Mary’s letter. When 
Mary wants to tell me any news that she does not care the 
whole world to know she writes it on a separate piece of 
paper and puts it inside her letter. I suppose it was one 
of these bits that fell out.” 

Lulu produced the scrap of paper as she spoke, and was 
opening it, Mrs. Osborne watching her movements and her 
countenance. She saw Lulu flush suddenly and vividly 
and then become deathly pale; she saw Lulu crush the 
note in her hand when read. 

“ Oh, mamma!” she uttered. 

The flush of emotion came also into Mrs. Osborne’s deli- 
cate cheeks. 

“ Lulu, is it bad news?” 

“ Mamma, it — it is about Tom!” she whispered, glanc- 
ing at the door and window, to see that none might be 
within sight or hearing. “ 1 never thought of him. 1 
only fancied Mary might be sending me some bit of news 
concerning her own affairs. How providential that papa 


152 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


did not see the paper fall, and that you did not persist in 
your inquiries! If he — ” 

“Lulu, you are keeping me in suspense/’ interrupted 
Mrs. Osborne, who had also grown white. “ What should 
Mary know about Tom?” 

Lulu smoothed out the writing and held it before her 
mother. It was as follows: 

“ I have had a curious note from T . It was with- 

out date or signature, but I knew his handwriting. He 
tells me to let you know in the most sure and private man- 
ner that 1 can that he will soon make you another night 
visit. You are to watch the grove every evening when the 
present moon gets bright . 99 

Mrs. Osborne covered her face with her hands. 

“ Oh, mamma! it is an awful risk for him to run.” 

“ But to know that he is in life — to know that he is in 
life! And for the risk — Lulu, I dread it not, for he is in- 
nocent. Destroy the paper.” 

“ Harold Clifton must see it, mamma. I will destroy it 
afterward.” 

“ Then seek him out to-day, and show it him. I shall 
not be easy until it is destroyed. Lulu. ” 

Braving the comments of the gossips, hoping the visit 
would not reach the ears or eyes of the judge. Lulu went 
that day to the office of Mr. Clifton. He was not there; 
he was not at Barrington; he was gone to Hillsdale on 
business, and Mr. Faber thought it a question if he would 
be at the office again that day. If so, it would be late in 
the afternoon. Lulu, as soon as their dinner was over, 
took up her patient station at the gate, hoping to see him 
pass; but the time went by, and he did not. She had lit- 
tle doubt that he had returned home. 

What should she do? Go up to the Barrington estate 
and see him, said her conscience. Lulu’s mind was in a 
strange, excited state. It appeared to her that this visit 
of Tom’s must have been especially designed by Providence 
that he might be confronted with Tilford. That they must 
be confronted, the one with the other, or rather, that Tom 
must have the opportunity given to him of seeing Tilford, 
was a matter of course; though how it was to be brought 
about Lulu could not guess. For all action and plans, 
she must depend upon Mr. Clifton. He ought to be put in 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


153 


immediate possession of the news, for the moon was already 
three or four days old, and there was no knowing when 
Tom might appear. 

“ Mamma/’ she said, returning in-doors after seeing the 
judge depart on one of his evening visits, 44 1 will go up to 
the Barrington estate, if you have no objections. I must 
see Mr. Clifton.” 

44 What objections can I have, my child? I am all anx- 
iety for you to see him. It is so unfortunate that he was 
out to-day when you ventured to his office. Mind you tell 
all, and ask him what is best to be done. ” 

Away went Lulu. It had struck seven when she arrived 
at the Barrington estate. 

44 Is Mr. Clifton disengaged?” 

44 Mr. Clifton is not yet home, miss. The ladies are 
waiting dinner for him.” 

A check for Lulu. The servant asked her to walk in, 
but she declined, and turned from the door. She was in 
no mood for visit-paying. 

Hazel had been standing at the window watching for her 
husband, wondering what made him so late; she observed 
Lulu approach the house, and saw her walk away again. 

Presently the servant who answered the door entered the 
drawing-room. 

44 Was not that Miss Osborne?” 

44 Yes, Mrs. Clifton,” was the man’s reply. 44 She 
wanted Mr. Clifton. I said you were at home, but she 
would not enter.” 

Hazel said no more. She caught the eyes of Captain St. 
Clare fixed upon her with as much compassionate meaning 
as they dared express. She clasped her hands in pain, and 
turned again to the window. 

Lulu was slowly walking down the avenue. Mr. Clifton 
was then in sight, coming on quickly. Hazel saw their 
hands meet in greeting. 

44 Oh, 1 am so thankful to have met you!” exclaimed 
Lulu, impulsively. 44 1 actually went to your office to day, 
and I have been now to your house. We have great news!” 

44 Ay! What? About Tilford?” 

44 No. About Tom,” replied Lulu, taking the scrap of 
paper from the folds of her dress. 44 This came to me this 
morning from Mary.” 

Mr- Clifton took the paper, and Lulu looked over hirn 


154 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


while he read it, neither of them thinking that Hazel’s 
jealous eyes and Captain St. Claye’s evil ones were strained 
on them from the distant windows. Miss Clifton’s also 
were, for the matter of that. 

“ Harold, it seems to me that Providence must be direct- 
ing him hither at this moment. Our suspicions with re- 
gard to Tilford can now be set at rest. You must contrive 
that Tom shall see him. What can he be coming again 
for?” 

“ More money,” was the supposition of Mr. Clifton. 
“ Does Mrs. Osborne know of this?” 

“ She does, unfortunately. I opened the paper before 
her, never dreaming it was connected with Tom. I wish I 
could have spared mamma the news until he was actually 
here; the expectation and suspense I fear will make her ill. 
It terrifies me to that extent that I don’t know what 1 am 
about,” she continued. “ Hot a moment’s rest or peace 
shall I have until he has been here and gone again. Poor, 
wandering, unhappy Tom, and not to be guilty!” 

“ He acted as though he were guilty. Lulu. And that 
line of conduct often entails as much trouble as real guilt.” 

“ You do not believe him guilty?” she almost passion- 
ately uttered. 

“ I do not. I have little doubt of the guilt of Tilford.” 

“ Oh, if it could but be brought home to him!” reiter- 
ated Lulu, “ so that Tom might be cleared in the sight of 
all. How can you contrive that he shall see Tilford?” 

“ I can not tell. I must think about it. Let me know 
the instant he arrives, Lulu.” 

“ Of course I will. It may be that he does not need 
money; that his errand is only to see mamma. He was al- 
ways so fond of her.” 

“ 1 must leave you,” said Mr. Clifton, taking her hand 
in token of farewell. Then, as a thought occurred to him, 
he turned and walked a few steps with her without releas- 
ing her hand. He was q uite unconscious that he retained it. 

“You know. Lulu, if he should want money, and it 
should not be convenient to Mrs. Osborne to supply it at 
so short a notice, 1 can give it to him, as I did 'before. ” 

“ Thank you — thank you, Harold. Mamma felt sure you 
would.” 

She lifted her eyes to his with an expression of gratitude. 
J3ut for the habitual control to which she had schooled her* 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 155 

self, a warmer feeling might have mingled with it. Mr. 
Clifton nodded pleasantly and then set off toward the house 
at the pace of a steam-engine. 

Two minutes in his dressing-room, and he entered the 
drawing-room, apologizing for having kept them waiting 
dinner, and explaining that he had been compelled to go to 
his office to give some orders subsequent to his return from 
Hillsdale. HazeFs lips were pressed together, and she pre- 
served an obstinate silence. Mr. Clifton, in his unconcern, 
didn't notice it. 

“ What did Lulu Osborne want?” demanded Fannie, 
during dinner. 

“ She wanted to see me on business,” was his reply, 
given in a tone that certainly did not invite his sister to 
pursue the subject. 

“ What was that you were reading over with her?” pur- 
sued the indefatigable Fannie. “ It looked like a note.” 

“ Ah, that would be telling,” returned Mr. Clifton, will- 
ing to turn it off with gayety. “ If young ladies choose to 
show me their love letters, 1 can not betray confidence, you 
know.” 

“ What rubbish, Harold!” said she. “ As if you could 
not say outright what Lulu wants without making a mys- 
tery of it. And she seems to be always wanting you.” 

Mr. Clifton glanced at his sister, a quick peculiar look. 
It seemed to speak both of seriousness and warning. In- 
voluntarily her thoughts and her fears flew back to the 
past. It was sufficient to silence her. 

That same evening HazeFs indignant and rebellious 
heart condescended to speak of it when alone with her hus- 
band. 

“ Why is it that she wants you so much, that Lulu Os- 
borne?” 

“It is private business, Hazel. She has to bring me 
messages from her mother. ” 

“ Must the business be kept from me?” 

He was silent for a moment, considering whether he 
might tell ‘her. What a pity he did not tell her. Was she 
not his wife, his other half? Ah, Harold Clifton, the day 
will come when you will see the mistake, the miserable mis- 
take you made, when your wife invited your confidence and 
you did not see fit to trust her with it! 

“ It would not make you the happier to know it. Hazel. 


/ 


156 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


There is a dark secret, you are aware, touching the Osborne 
family; it is connected with that.” 

She did not put faith in a word of the reply. She be- 
lieved he could not tell her because v her feelings as his wife 
would be outraged by the confession, and it goaded her 
anger into recklessness. Mr. Clifton, on his part, never 
gave a thought to the supposition that she might be jealous 
— he had believed that nonsense at an end years ago. He 
was perfectly honorable and true, giving her no shadow of 
cause or reason to be jealous of him; and being a practical, 
matter-of-fact man, it did not occur to him that he gave 
her every cause to be jealous. 

Hazel was sitting the following morning moody and out 
of sorts. Captain St. Clare had accompanied Mr. Clifton 
in the most friendly manner possible to the park gates on 
his departure, and then stole along the hedge walk. He 
returned to Hazel with the news of an “ ardent ” interview 
with Lulu, who had been watching for Mr. Clifton at the 
gate. She sat sullenly digesting the tidings, when a note 
was brought in. It proved to be an invitation to dinner 
for the folowing Tuesday at a Mrs. Leonard's — for Mr. 
and Mrs. Clifton and Fannie. 

She passed the note to Fannie. 

“ Will you go?” asked Fannie. 

“ Yes,” replied Hazel. “ Mr. Clifton and I both want 
a change of some sort,” she added, in a mocking sort of 
spirit. “ It may be as well to have it, if only for an even- 
ing.” In truth, this unhappy jealousy, this distrust of her 
husband, appeared to have altered Hazel's very nature. 

“ And leave Captain St. Clare alone?” returned Fannie. 

Hazel bent her head over the answer to the note, making 
no reply. 

“ lie can remain here; he can dine by himself. Shall I 
accept the invitation for you?” 

“No, 1 will not go,” said Fannie. 

“ Then in that case there can be no difficulty with regard 
to Captain St. Clare,” coldly spoke Hazel. 

“ 1 don’t want his company; I am not fond of it,” said 
Fannie. “ I would go to Mrs. Leonard's but that I should 
require a new dress. ” 

“ That is easily had,” said Hazel. “ I want one my- 
self.” ’ 


MB. CLIFTOH OF BARRINGTON. • i5? 

“You want a new dress?” uttered Fannie. “ Why, you 
have dozens!” 

“ I don't know that 1 could count a dozen in all,” re- 
turned Hazel, chafing at the remark and the continual 
thwarting put upon her by Miss Clifton which had. latterly 
seemed more than usually hard to endure. 

Hazel concluded her note, folded, sealed it, and then 
rang the bell. As the man left the room with it she desired 
that Cora might be sent to her. 

“Is it this morning, Cora, that the dress-maker comes 
to try on Miss Ethel's dress?” she inquired. 

Cora hesitated and stammered, and glanced from her to 
Miss Clifton. The latter looked up. 

“ The dress-maker's not coming,” said she, sharply. “ 1 
countermanded the order for the dress. Ethel does not 
require it. ” 

“ She does require it,” answered Hazel. “ I am a com- 
petent judge of what is necessary for my children.” 

“ She no more requires one than you require the dress 
you are longing for,” stoically persisted Fannie. “ She 
has ever so many lying by; and her striped silk, turned, 
will make up as handsome as ever.” 

Cora backed out of the room and closed the door softly, 
but Hazel caught a compassionate look directed toward 
her. Her heart felt bursting with indignation and despair; 
there seemed to be no side on which she could turn for 
refuge. Pitied by her own servants! 

She reopened her desk, and dashed off a haughty, per- 
emptory note for the attendance of the "dress-maker at the 
Barrington estate, commanding its immediate dispatch. 

Miss Clifton groaned in her wrath. 

“ You will be sorry for not listening to me when your 
husband will be brought to poverty. He works like a slave 
now; and, with all his slaving, can scarcely, 1 fear, keep ex- 
penses down.” 

Poor Hazel, ever sensitive, began to think they might, 
what with one thing and another, be spending more than 
Mr. Clifton's means would justify; she knew their expenses 
were heavy. 

The same tale had been dinned into her ear ever since she 
married him. She gave up in that moment all thought of 
the dress for herself and for Ethel; but her spirit, in her 
deep unhappiness, felt sick within her. 


158 . MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 

Cora had meanwhile flown to Sally’s room, and was ex- 
ercising her dearly beloved tongue in an exaggerated ac- 
count of the matter; how Miss Clifton put upon Mrs. Clif- 
ton, and had forbidden a new dress to her, as well as to 
Miss Ethel. 

Sally, sitting up that day for the first time, was gazing 
from the window at Captain St. Clare as Cora spoke. 

“He is a handsome man — to look at him from this,” 
she observed. 

And a few more days passed on. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

Bright was the moon on that genial Monday night, bright 
were the evening stars, as they shone upon a solitary way- 
farer who walked on the shady side of the road with his 
head down as though he did not care to court observation. 
He drew near the dwelling of Judge Osborne, plunged rap- 
idly over some palings (after looking well to the right and 
left) into a field, and thence over the side wall into Judge 
Osborne’s garden, where he remained amid the thick trees. 

Lulu, anxious, troubled, worn out with the suspense of 
watching for her brother, would have given her head for 
her father to go out. But no; things were going by the 
rules oL contrary. There sat the judge in full view of the 
garden and the grove, his chair drawn precisely in front of 
the window, his long pipe in his mouth. 

“ Are you going out, Thomas?” Mrs. Osborne ventured 
to say. 

“No.” 

“ Mamma, shall 1 ring for the blinds to be closed?” 

“Blinds closed!” said the judge. “ Who’d shut out 
this bright moon? You have got the lamp at the far end 
of the room, young lady, and can go to it.” 

Lulu ejaculated an inward prayer for patience — for 
safety for Tom, if he did come, and waited on, watching 
the grove in the distance. It came — the signal. Her quick 
eye caught it; a movement as if some person or thing bad 
stepped out beyond the trees and stepped back again. 
Lulu’s face turned white and her lips became dry. 

“lam so warm! I must take a walk in the garden,” 
she ejaculated, in her confused eagerness for an excuse. 

{She stole out, throwing a dark cloak over her shoulders 


MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 


159 


that it might render her less conspicuous to the judge. She 
did not dare to stand still when she reached the trees, or to 
penetrate them, but she caught glimpses of Tom’s face, 
and her heart ached at the change in it. It was white, 
thin, and full of care, and his hair was turning gray. 

“ Oh, Tom darling, 1 can not stop and talk to you!” 
she wailed, in a deep whisper. “ Papa is at home, you see, 
of all nights in the year/ 5 

“ Can’t I see my mother?” 

“ How can you? You must wait till to-morrow night.” 

“ I don’t like waiting a second night. Lulu. There’s 
danger in every inch of ground that this neighborhood con- 
tains.” 

“ But you must wait, Tom, for reasons. That man who 
caused all the mischief, Tilford — ” 

“ Hang him!” gloomily interrupted Tom. 

‘ 4 He is at Barrington. At least there is a Tilford here 
whom we, Mr. Clifton and I, believe to be the same, and 
we want you to see him.” 

“ Let me see him,” panted Tom, whom the news ap- 
peared to agitate; “ let me see him! Lulu — say — ” 

Lulu had passed on again, returning presently. 

“ You know, Tom, 1 must keep moving with papa’s 
eyes there. He is a tall man, very good-looking, very fond 
of dress and ornaments, especially of diamonds.” 

“ That’s him!” cried Tom, eagerly. 

“ Mr. Clifton will contrive that you shall see him,” she 
continued, stooping down as if to tie her shoe. “ Should 
it prove to be the same, perhaps nothing can be immedi- 
ately done toward clearing you, but it will be a great point 
ascertained. Are you sure you should know him again?” 

“Sure that I should know him!” uttered Tom Os- 
borne. “ Should I know my own father? Should 1 know 
you? And you are not engraven on my heart in letters of 
blood as he is. How and when am I to see him, Lulu?” 

“ I can tell you nothing till I have consulted Mr. Clif- 
ton. Be here to-morrow as soon as ever the dusk will per- 
mit you; perhaps Mr. Clifton will contrive to bring him 
here. If—” 

The window was thrown open, and the voice of Judge 
Osborne was heard from it. 

“ Lulu, are you wandering about there to take cold? 
Come in. Come in, I say.” 


160 &R. CLIFTON OS' BARRINGTON. 

“ Oh, Tom, I am so sorry !” she lingered to whispeT. 
“ But papa is sure to be out to-morrow evening; he would 
not stay in two evenings hand running. Good-night, dear. ” 

There must be no delay now, and the next day Lulu, 
braving comments, appeared once more at the office of Mr. 
Clifton. Terribly did the rules of contrary seem in action 
just then. Mr. Clifton was not in, and the clerks did not 
know when to expect him. He was gone out for some 
hours, they believed. 

“ Mr. Faber /' 9 urged Lulu, as the old gentleman came 
to the door to greet her, “ I must see him.” 

“ He will not be in till late in the afternoon. Miss Os- 
borne. I expect him then. Is it anything I can do?” 

No — no,” sighed Lulu. 

At that moment Hazel and her little girl passed in the 
carriage. She saw Lulu at her husband ’s office door. What 
should she be doing there, unless paying him a visit? A 
slight, haughty bow to Lulu, a pleasant nod and a smile to 
Mr. Faber, and the carriage rolled on. 

It was four o’clock before Lulu could see Mr. Clifton. 
She communicated her tidings that Tom had arrived. 

Mr. Clifton held deceit and all underhand doings in 
especial abhorrence; yet he deemed that he was acting 
right, under the circumstances, in allowing Captain Til- 
ford to be secretly seen by Tom. 

In haste he arranged his plans. It was the evening of 
his own dinner engagement at Mrs. Leonard’s. But that he 
must give up. Telling Lulu to dispatch Tom to his office 
as soon as he should make his appearance in the grove, and 
to urge him to come boldly, for none would know him in 
his disguise, he wrote a hurried note to Tilford, requesting 
him also to be at his office at eight o’clock that evening, as 
he had something to communicate to him. 

The latter plea was no fiction, for he had received an im- 
portant communication that morning relative to the busi- 
ness on which Captain Tilford had consulted him, and his 
own absence from the office had alone prevented his send- 
ing for him earlier. 

Other matters were calling the attention of Mr. Clifton, 
and it was five o’clock ere he departed for the Barrington 
estate. He would not have gone so early but that he must 
inform his wife of his inability to keep the dinner engage- 


MU. CLIFTON OF B ARRINGTON. 161 

ment. Mr. Clifton was one who never hesitated to sacri- 
fice personal gratification to friendship or to business. 

The carriage was at the door, and Hazel dressed and 
waiting for him in her dressing-room. 

“ Did you forget that the Leonards dine at six?” was 
her greeting. 

“No, Hazel; but it was impossible for me to get here 
before. And 1 should not have come so soon but to tell 
you that I can not accompany you. You must make my 
excuses to Mrs. Leonard.” 

A pause. Strange thoughts were running through 
Hazel's mind. 

“ Why so?” she inquired. 

“ Some business has arisen which I am compelled to at- 
tend to this evening. As soon as I have snatched my din- 
ner at home, 1 must hasten back to the office.” 

Was he making this excuse to spend the hours with Lulu 
Osborne? The idea that it was so took firm possession of 
her mind, and remained there. Her face expressed a vari- 
ety of feelings, the most prominent that of resentment. 
Mr. Clifton saw it. 

“You must not be annoyed. Hazel. 1 assure you it is no 
fault of mine. It is important private business that can 
not be put off, and which I can not delegate to Mr. Faber. 
I am sorry that it should so happen. ” 

“You never return to your office in an evening,” she 
remarked, with pale lips. 

“No; because if anything arises to take us there after 
hours, Faber officiates. But the business to-night must be 
done by myself. ” 

Another pause. Hazel suddenly broke it. 

“ Shall you join us later in the evening?” 

4 4 1 believe I will not be able to do so. ” 

She drew her light mantle around her, and swept down 
the stairs. Mr. Clifton followed to place her in the car- 
riage. When he said good-bye she never answered, but 
looked straight out before her with a stony look. 

44 What time shall I bring the carriage?” inquired the 
footman, as she alighted at Mrs. Leonard's. 

“ Early. Half past nine.” 

A little before eight o'clock, Tom, in his disguise and 
slouched hat, rang dubiously at the outer door of Mr. Clif- 
6 


162 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

ton’s office. That gentleman instantly opened it. He was 
quite alone. 

“ Come in, Tom,” said he, grasping his hand. 44 Did 
you meet many whom you knew?” 

“ I never looked at whom I met,” was the reply. 44 I 
thought if I looked at people they might look at me, so I 
came straight ahead, with my eyes before me. How the 
place has changed ! There’s a new brick building at the 
corner, where old Mark’s shop used to be.” 

4 4 That’s the new police station. Barrington, 1 assure 
you, is becoming grand in public buildings. And how have 
you been, Tom?” 

44 Ailing and wretched,” answered Tom. 44 How can I 
be otherwise, Mr. Clifton, with so false an accusation at- 
tached to me, and working like a slave as I do?” 

44 You may take off that disfiguring hat, Tom. No one 
is here. ” 

Tom slowly took it from his head, and his fair face, so 
like his mother’s, was disclosed. But the moment he was 
uncovered, he turned shrinkingly toward the entrance. 

“ If any one should come in!” 

44 Impossible,” replied Mr. Clifton. 44 The front door 
is fast, and the building is supposed to be empty at this 
hour.” 

44 For, if I should be seen and recognized, it might come 
to hanging, you know. You are expecting that cursed 
Tilford here. Lulu told me.” 

44 Directly,” replied Mr. Clifton. 44 From your descrip- 
tion of the Tilford who murdered Truesdell, we believe this 
Captain Tilford to be the same man,” pursued Mr. Clif- 
ton. 44 In person he appears to tally exactly; and I have 
ascertained that some years ago he was a great deal at 
Hillsdale, and got into some sort of scrape. He is here on 
a visit. ” 

44 But what an idiot he must be to venture here,” ut- 
tered Tom. 44 Here, of all places in the world!” 

44 He counts, no doubt, upon not being known. So far 
as I can find out, Tom, nobody here knew him but you and 
Kate. I will put you in Mr. Faber’s room — you may re- 
member the little window in it — and from there you can 
take full view of Tilford, whom I will keep in the front 
office. You are sure you would recognize him after this 
lapse of time?” 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRItfGTOK. lG3 

u 1 should know him if it were fifty years to come. I 
should know him were he disguised as I am disguised. We 
can not ” — Tom’s voice sunk — “forget a man who has 
been the object of our frenzied jealousy.” 

“ What has brought you to Barrington again, Tom?” 

“ Chiefly a desire within me that I could not get rid of,” 
replied Tom. “ It was not so much to see my mother and 
Lulu, though 1 longed to see them since my illness — but a 
feeling was within me that I could not rest away from it. 
So I said I’d risk it again, just for a day.” 

“ I thought you might possibly want some assistance, as 
before.” 

“ I do want that also,” said Tom. “ Not much; my ill- 
ness has run me into debt, and if my mother can let me 
have a little I shall be thankful.” 

“ 1 am sure she will,” answered Mr. Clifton. “ You 
shall have it from me to-night. What has been the mat- 
ter with you?” 

“ The beginning of it was a kick from a horse. That 
was last winter, and it laid me up for six weeks. Then, 
in the spring, after I had got well and was at work again, 
I caught some sort of fever, and down again I was for six 
weeks. I have not been well since ” 

“ How is it you have never written or sent me your ad- 
dress?” 

“ Because 1 dared not,” answered Tom, timorously. “ I 
should always be in fear — not of you Mr. Clifton, but of its 
becoming known in some way or other. The time is get- 
ting on. Is that Tilford sure to come?” 

“ He sent me word that he would, in reply to my note. 
And — there he is!” said Mr. Clifton, as a ring was heard 
at the bell. 

“ Now, Tom, come this way. Bring your hat.” 

Tom complied by putting the hat on his head, pulling it 
so low down that it touched his nose. He felt himself safer 
in it. Mr. Clifton showed him into Mr. Faber’s room, and 
then turned the key upon him and put it in his pocket. 

Mr. Clifton went to the front door, opened it, and ad- 
mitted Captain Tilford. He brought him into the clerk’s 
office, which was bright with gas, keeping him in conversa- 
tion for a few minutes, standing, and then asking him to 
be seated, all in full view of the little window. 

“ I beg pardon for being late,” Captain Tilford ob- 


164 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


served. 4 4 1 am half an hour beyond the time you men- 
tioned, but the Hoods had two or three friends at dinner, 
and I could not get away. I hope, Mr. Clifton, you have 
not come to your office to-night purposely for me.” 

44 Business must be attended to,” somewhat evasively an- 
swered Mr. Clifton. 44 1 have been out myself nearly all 
day. We received a communication from Boston this 
morning relative to your affair, and 1 am sorry to say it 
is anything but satisfactory. They will not wait.” 

44 But 1 am not liable, Mr. Clifton. Not liable in 
justice.” 

44 No — if what you tell me be correct. But justice and 
law are sometimes in opposition. Captain Tilford.” 

Captain Tilford sat in perplexity. 

44 They will not get me arrested here, will they?” 

44 They would have done it beyond a doubt; but I have 
caused a letter to be written and dispatched to them which 
must bring forth an answer before any violent proceedings 
are taken. That answer will be here day after to-morrow. ” 

44 And what am I to do then?” 

44 1 think it probable there may be a way then of check- 
mating them. But I armnot sure. Captain Tilford, that I 
can give my attention further to this affair.” 

44 1 hope and trust you will,” was the reply. 

44 You have not forgotten that I told you at first I could 
not promise you to do so,” rejoined Mr. Clifton. 44 You 
shall hear from me to-morrow. If I carry it on for you, I 
will then appoint an hour for you to be here the following 
morning; if not, why, ,1 dare say you will find a solicitor 
as capable of assisting you as 1 am. ” 

44 But why will you not? What is the reason?” 

44 1 can not always give reasons for what I do,” was the 
response. 44 You shall hear from me to-morrow.” 

He rose as he spoke. Captain Tilford also arose. Mr. 
Clifton detained him yet a few moments, and then saw 
him out at the front door and fastened it. 

He returned and released Tom. The latter took off his 
hat as he advanced into the blaze of light. 

44 Well, Tom, is it the same man?” 

44 No, sir; not in the least like him.” 

Mr. Clifton felt a strange relief — relief for Captain Til- 
ford’s sake. He had rarely seen one whom he could so lit- 
tle associate with the notion of a murderer as Captain Til- 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


165 


ford, and he was a man who exceedingly won upon his re- 
gard. He could heartily help him out of his dilemma now. 

“ Excepting that they are both tall, with nearly the 
same colored hair, there is no resemblance whatever be- 
tween them/' proceeded Tom. “ Their faces, their fig- 
ures, are as opposite as light is from dark. That other, in 
spite of his handsome features, had the expression at times 
of a demon, but the expression of this one is the best part 
of his face. TruesdelTs murderer had a curious look 
here. 99 

“ Where?” questioned Mr. Clifton; for Tom had only 
pointed to his face generally. 

‘‘Well, I can not say precisely where it lay, whether in 
the eyebrows or the eyes; T could not tell when I used to 
have him before me, but it was in one of them. Ah! Mr. 
Clifton, 1 thought when Lulu told me Tilford was here it 
was too good news to be true. Depend on it, he won’t 
venture to Barrington again. This man is no more like 
that other villain than you are like him. ” 

“ Then, as it is set at rest, we had better be going, Tom. 
You have to see your mother, and she must be waiting in 
anxiety. How much money do you want?” 

“ One hundred dollars would do, but—” 

Tom stopped in hesitation. 

“ But what?” asked Mr. Clifton. “ Speak out, Tom.” 

“ I would be glad to have more. I might be sick again . 99 

“ You must take five hundred, Tom,” said Mr. Clifton, 
counting over the money to him. “ Now, will you walk 
with me to the grove of trees, or will you walk alone? 1 
mean to see you there in safety . 99 

Tom thought he would prefer to walk alone; everybody 
they met might speak to Mr. Clifton. 

The latter inquired why he chose moonlight nights for 
visits. 

“ It is pleasanter for night traveling. And had I chosen 
dark nights, Lulu could not have seen my signal from the 
trees,” was the answer. 

They went out, and proceeded unmolested to the house 
of Judge Osborne. It was past nine then. 

“Iam so much obliged to you, Mr. Clifton,” whispered 
Tom, as they walked up the path. 

“ I wish I could help you more effectually, Tom, and 
oJear up the mystery. Is Lulu ou the watch?” 


166 MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 

44 Yes; the door is slowly opening. ” 

Tom stole across the hall into the parlor to his mother’s 
room. Lulu approached and softly whispered, Mr. Clifton 
standing just outside the portico; her voice trembled with 
the suspense of what the answer might be. 

“ Is it the same man— the same Tilford?” 

“ No. Tom says this man bears no resemblance to the 
real one.” 

4 4 Oh!” uttered Lulu, in her surprise and disappoint- 
ment. “Not the same? and for the best part of poor 
Tom’s evening to have been taken up for nothing!” 

44 Not quite for nothing,” said Mr. Clifton. 44 The 
question is now set at rest.” 

44 Set at rest?” repeated Lulu. 44 It is left in more un- 
certainty than ever. ” 

44 Set at rest as regards Captain Tilford. And while our 
suspicions were concentrated upon him we did not look to 
other quarters.” 

When they entered the sitting-room Mrs. Osborne was 
crying over Tom, and Tom was crying over her; but she 
seized the hand of Mr. Clifton. 

44 You have been very kind; I don’t know whatever we 
should do without you/ and I want to tax your kindness 
yet^further. Has Lulq mentioned it?” 

44 1 could not talk in the hall, mamma; the servants 
might have overheard.” 

44 Mr. Osborne is not quite well, and we fear he will be 
home early in consequence; otherwise, we should have 
been quite safe till ten. Should he come in and see Tom 
— the very thought sends me into a shiver. Lulu and I 
were discussing it all the evening, and we can only think 
of one plan. It is that you will stay in the garden near the 
gate, and should he come in, stop him and keep him in 
conversation. Lulu will be with you, and will run in with 
the warning, and Tom can go inside the closet in the hall 
till Mr. Osborne has entered and is safe in his own room, 
and then he can make his escape. Will you do this, Har- 
old?” 

44 Certainly 1 will.” 

44 1 can not part with him before ten o’clock, unless 1 
am obliged to,” she whispered, pressing Mr. Cilf ton’s hand 
in her earnest gratitude. 44 You don’t know what it is, 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 167 

Harold, to have a lost son home for an hour but once in 
seven years. At ten o'clock we will part." 
h Mr. Clifton and Lulu began to pace the path, in compli- 
ance with the wishes of Mrs. Osborne, keeping near the 
entrance gate. When they were turning the second time, 
Mr. Clifton offered her his arm. It was an act of mere 
politeness. Lulu took it, and there they waited and 
waited, but the judge did not come. 

Punctually to the minute — half past nine — Hazel's car- 
riage arrived at Mrs. Leonard's, and she came out im- 
mediately, a headache being her plea for her early depart- 
ure. She had not far to go to reach Barrington — about 
two miles. It was a by-road nearly all the way. They 
could emerge into the open road if they pleased, but it was 
a trifle further. Suddenly a gentleman approached the 
carriage as it was rolling along, and waved his hand to the 
coachman to pull up. In spite of the glowing moonlight. 
Hazel at first did not recognize him, for he wore a dis- 
figuring fur cap, the laps of which were tied over his ears 
and cheeks. It was Captain St. Clare. She put down 
the window. 

4 4 1 thought it must be your carriage. How early you 
are returning! Were you tired of your entertainers?" 

44 Why, he knew what time she was returning!" thought 
John to himself. 44 He asked me. A false sort of a man, 
1 think." 

44 1 came out for a stroll, and have tired myself," he 
proceeded. 44 Will you take compassion on me and let me 
ride home with you?" 

She acquiesced; she could not well do otherwise. The 
footman sprung down and opened the door, and Captain 
St. Clare took his place beside Hazel. 

44 Take the other road," he put out his head to say to 
the coachman, and the man touched his hat. 

The other road would cause them to pass Mr. Osborne's. 

44 1 did not know you," she began, gathering herself into 
her own corner. 44 What ugly thing is that you have on? 
It is like a disguise." 

He was taking off the 44 ugly thing," as she spoke, and 
began to twirl it round on his hand. 

44 Disguise? Oh, no! I have no creditors in the immedi- 
ate neighborhood of Barrington." 

False as ever! It was worn as a disguise, and he knew it. 


108 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON". 

“ Is Mr. Clifton at home?” she inquired. 

“No.” Then, after a pause: “I expect he is more 
agreeably engaged. ’ * 

The tone brought the tingling blood to the cheeks of 
Hazel. She wished to preserve a dignified silence, and did 
so for a few moments. But the jealous question broke 
out: 

“ Engaged in what manner?” 

“ As 1 came by Osborne’s house just now I saw two peo- 
ple, a gentleman and a young lady, walking lovingly to- 
gether, enjoying this lovely moonlight night. They were 
your husband and Lulu Osborne.” 

Hazel almost gnashed her teeth; the jealous doubts which 
had been tormenting her all the evening were confirmed. 
That the man whom she hated — yes, in her blind anger she 
hated him then — should so impose upon her, should ex- 
cuse himself by lies — lies base and false— from accompany- 
ing her, on purpose to pass the hours with Lulu Osborne! 
Had she been alone in the carriage a torrent of passion 
would probably have escaped her. 

She leaned back, panting in her emotion, but concealed 
it from Captain St. Clare. As they came opposite to 
Judge Osborne’s, she deliberately bent forward and scanned 
the garden with eager eyes. 

There, in the bright moonlight, all too bright and clear, 
slowly paced, arm in arm, and drawn close to each other, 
her husband and Lulu. With a choking sob that could no 
longer be controlled or hidden, Hazel sunk back again. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

The minutes flew on — a quarter to ten, a quarter past 
ten — and still Tom Osborne lingered on with his mother, 
and still Mr. Clifton and Lulu paced patiently the garden 
path. At half past ten Tom came forth, having taken 
farewell of his mother. Then came Lulu’s tearful good- 
bye, which Mr. Clifton witnessed; then a hard grasp of that 
gentleman’s hand, and Tom plunged amid the trees to de- 
part the way he came. 

“ Good-night, Lulu!” said Mr. Clifton. 

“ Will you not come in and say good -night to mamma?” 

“Not now; it is late. Tell her how glad 1 am things 
have gone off so well. ” 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON". 


169 


He set off at a rapid pace toward his home, and Lulu 
leaned on the gate to indulge her tears. Not a soul passed 
to interrupt her, and the judge did not come. 

What could have become of him? He did not arrive 
that night until twelve o’clock. So far, well — as it hap- 
pened. 

Lulu knew not how long she lingered at the gate; ten 
minutes it may have been. Nobody summoned her. 

Exceedingly surprised was Lulu to hear footsteps and to 
find they were Mr. Clifton’s. 

“ The more haste, the less speed. Lulu,” he called out, 
as he came up. “ 1 had got half way home, and have had 
to come back again. When I went into your sitting-room 
I left a small parcel containing papers on the table. Will 
you get it for me?” 

Lulu ran in and brought it out, and Mr. Clifton, with a 
brief word of thanks, sped away with it. 

She leaned on the gate as before, the ready tears flowing 
again; her heart was aching for Tom — it was aching for 
the disappointment that had developed respecting Captain 
Tilford. Still nobody passed; still the steps of her father 
were not heard, and Lulu stayed on. But. what was that 
figure cowering under shade of the hedge at a distance, 
and seemingly watching her? Lulu strained her eyes, 
while her heart beat as if it would burst its bounds. Sure- 
ly, surely, it was her brother! What had he ventured back 
for? 

Tom it was. When fully assured that Lulu was stand- 
ing there, he knew the judge was still absent, and vent- 
ured to advance. He appeared to be in a strange state of 
emotion, his breath labored, his whole frame trembling. 

“ Lulu, Lulu!” he ejaculated, “ 1 have seen Tilford.” 

Lulu thought him demented. 

“ I know you saw him,” she slowly said; “ but it was 
not the right Tilford. ” 

“ Not him,” breathed Tom, “ not the gentleman I saw 
to-night in Clifton’s office. I have seen the fellow himself. 
Why do you stare so at me. Lulu?” 

Lulu was scanning his face keenly. It appeared to her 
a strange tale he was telling. 

“ When 1 left here I cut across into the side road, which 
is more private for me than this road,” proceeded Tom. 
“ Just as 1 got to that clump of trees— you know it, Lulu 


170 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

— I saw somebody coming toward me at a distance. I 
stepped back behind the trunks of trees into the shade of 
the hedge, for 1 don’t care to be met, though I am dis- 
guised. He came along the road, and I looked at him. 1 
knew him long before he was abreast of me; it was Til- 
ford!” 

Lulu made no comment;, she was digesting the news. 

“ Every drop of blood within me began to tingle, and an 
impulse came upon me to spring upon him and accuse him 
of the murder of Truesdell,” went on Tom in the same 
excited manner; “ but I restrained it, or perhaps my cour- 
age failed. One of the reproaches against me used to be 
that I was a physical coward, you know. Lulu,” he added, 
his tone changing to bitterness. “In a struggle Tilford 
would have had the best of it; he is taller and more power- 
ful than I, and might have battered me to death. A man 
who can commit one murder won’t hesitate at a second.” 

“ Tom, do you think you could have been deceived?” 
she urged. “You had been talking of Tilford, and your 
thoughts were naturally bearing upon him. Imagina- 
tion — ” 

“ Be still. Lulu!” he interrupted, in a tone of pain. 
“ Imagination, indeed! Lid I not tell you he was stamped 
here?” touching his breast. “ Do you take me for a child 
or an imbecile, that I « should fancy I see Tilford in every 
shadow or meet people where 1 do not? He had his hat 
off, as if he had been walking fast; he carried the hat in 
one hand, and what looked like a gripsack. With the 
other hand he was pushing his hair from his brow — in this 
way — a peculiar way,” added Tom, slightly lifting his hat 
and pushing back his hair. “ By that action alone I 
should have known him, for he was always doing it in the 
old days. And there was his white hand adorned with the 
diamond ring!” 

Tom’s voice and manner were singularly earnest, and a 
conviction of the truth of his assertion flashed over his 
sister. 

“ 1 saw his face as plainly as ever I saw it, every feature; 
he is scarcely altered, Lulu; you need not doubt me. I 
swear it was Tilford!” 

She grew as excited as he was; not that she believed the 
news; it was telling upon her; reason left its place, and im- 
pulse succeeded. Lulu did not wait to weigh her action. 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON". 171 

“ Tom, Mr. Clifton ought to know this. He has but 
just gone; we may overtake him if we try.” 

Forgetting the strange appearance it would have at that 
hour of the night should she meet any one who knew her, 
forgetting what the consequence might be did J udge Os- 
borne return and find her absent, Lulu set off with a fleet 
foot, Tom more stealthily following her, his eyes cast in 
all directions. She succeeded in reaching Mr. Clifton be- 
fore he turned into his own grounds. 

“Lulu!” he exclaimed, in extreme astonishment, 
“Lulu!” 

“ Harold! Harold!” she panted, gasping for breath. 
“ I am not out of my mind; but do come and speak to 
Tom! He has just seen the real Tilford.” 

Mr. Clifton, amazed and wondering, turned back. They 
got over the field stile, and there Tom told his tale. Mr. 
Clifton did not appear to dotibt it as Lulu had done. 

“ I am sure there is no one named Tilford in the neigh- 
borhood but the gentleman you saw in my office to-night, 
Tom,” observed Mr. Clifton, after some deliberation. 
“ It is very strange!” 

“ He may be staying here under a feigned name,” re- 
plied Tom. “ There can be. no mistake that it is Tilford 
whom I have just seen.” 

“ How was he dressed? As a gentleman?” 

“ Catch him dressing as anything else,” returned Tom. 

Mr. Clifton was silent. Lulu also; but the thoughts of 
both were busy. 

“ Tom,” observed the former, “ I should advise you to 
remain a day or two in the neighborhood and look out for 
this man. You may see him again, and may track him 
home; it is very desirable to find out who he really is, if 
practicable.” 

“ But the danger,” urged Tom. 

“ Your fears magnify that. I am quite certain that no- 
body would know you in daylight disguised as you are 
now. So many years have flown since that people have 
forgotten to think about you.” 

But Tom could not be persuaded; he was full of fears. 
Mr. Clifton got from him an address in New York to 
which he might write in case anything turned up and 
Tom’s presence should be necessary. He then once more 


172 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRIMGTOH. 


said farewell, and quitted them, his way lying past Mr. 
Clifton's home. 

“ And now to see you back. Lulu," said Mr. Clifton. 

“ Indeed, you shall not do it; late as it is, and tired as 
you must be. I came here alone; Tom did not keep near 
me." 

“ I can not help your having come here alone, but you 
may rely upon it, I do not let you go back alone. Non- 
sense, Lulu! Allow you to go alone by yourself at eleven 
o'clock at night? What are you thinking of?" 

He gave Lulu his arm, and they pursued their way. 

“ How late Hazel will think you!" observed Lulu. 

“ I do not know that Hazel has returned home yet. My 
being late once in a while is of no consequence." 

“ Thank you very greatly," she said, as they reached 
the gate, and Mr. Clifton finally turned away. 

Lulu stole in and found the coast clear. Her papa had 
not returned. 

Hazel was in her dressing-room when Mr. Clifton en- 
tered. She was seated at a table writing. A few ques- 
tions as to her evening’s visit, which she answered in the 
briefest manner possible, and he then asked her if she was 
not going to retire. 

“ By and by; lam not sleepy." 

“ I must retire at once. Hazel, for I am dead tired." 

“You can," was her answer. 

He bent down to kiss her, but she dexterously turned her 
face away. He supposed she felt hurt that he had not 
gone with her to the party, and placed his hand on her 
shoulder with a smile. 

“ You foolish child, to be aggrieved at that! It was no 
fault of mine." 

He never forgot the look she turned on him; it was so 
full of indignation, despair, wounded love and sorrow. 

“ Hazel, I could not help myself. I will talk to you in 
the morning; I am too tired to-night. I suppose you will 
not be long." 

He was too tired to talk to her, but not too tired to walk 
with Lulu Osborne for hours. Her head bent over her 
writing again, and she made no reply. 

Mr. Clifton went to his room, and was soon fast asleep. 

Some time after. Hazel went softly upstairs to Sally's 
room. Sally, in her first sleep, was suddenly aroused from 


MR. CLIFTOK OF RARRlKGTOK. 173 

it. There stood Hazel, a wax-light in her hand. Sally 
rubbed her eyes and collected her senses, and finally sat up 
in bed. 

4 4 Oh, Mrs. Clifton, are you ill?” 

“ 111? Yes; ill and wretched!” answered Hazel; and ill 
she looked, for she was perfectly white. “ Sally, I want a 
promise from you. If anything should happen to me, 
stay at Barrington with the children.” 

Sally stared in amazement, too astonished to make any 
reply. 

“ Sally, you promised it once before; promise it again. 
Whatever happens, you will stay with my shildren when I 
am gone?” 

“ 1 will stay with them. But, oh! Mrs. Clifton, what 
is the matter with you? Are you taken suddenly ill?” 

“ Good-bye, Sally!” murmured Hazel, gliding from the 
room as softly as she had entered it. 

And Sally, after an hour of perplexity, dropped asleep 
again. 

Sally was not the only one whose rest was disturbed that 
eventful night. Mr. Clifton himself awoke, and to his 
surprise found that his wife had not come to bed. He 
wondered what the time was and struck his repeater. A 
quarter past three! 

Rising, he made his way to the door of his wife’s dress- 
ing-room. It was in darkness, and, so far as he could judge 
bv absence of sound, unoccupied. 

““Hazel!” 

No reply. Nothing but the echo of his own voice in the 
silence of the night. 

He struck a match, and lighted a taper, partially dressed 
himself, and went out to look for her. He feared she 
might have been taken ill, or else that she had fallen asleep 
in one of the rooms. But nowhere could she be found, and 
feeling perplexed, proceeded to his sister’s room and 
knocked. 

Miss Clifton was a light sleeper, and arose at once. 

“ Who’s that?” called out she. 

“ It is only I, Fannie,” said Mr. Clifton. 

“ You? What in the name of fortune do you want? 
You can come in.” 

Mr. Clifton opened the door, and met the keen eyes of 
his sister bent on him. 


174 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

“ Is anybody ill?” she demanded. 

“ 1 think Hazel must be; 1 can not find her.” 

“ Not find her!” echoed Fannie. “ Why, what’s the 
time?” 

“It is three o’clock. She has not been to bed. I can 
not find her in the sitting-room, neither is she in the chil- 
dren’s room.” 

“ Then, I’ll tell you she has gone worrying about Sally. 
Perhaps the girl may be in pain to-night.” 

Mr. Clifton was in full retreat toward Sally’s room at 
this suggestion, when his sister called to him: 

“ If anything is the matter with Sally, you come and 
tell me, Harold, for 1 will get up and see after her.” 

He reached Sally’s room and softly opened the door, fully 
expecting to find a light there, and his wife sitting by the 
bedside. There was no light, however, save that which 
came from the taper he held, and he saw no signs of his 
wife. Where was she? Could Sally tell him? He stepped 
inside the room and called her. 

Sally started up in a fright, which changed to astonish- 
ment when she recognized him. He inquired whether 
Hazel had been there, and for a few moments Sally did not 
answer. She had been dreaming of Hazel, and could not 
at first detach the dream from the visit which had probably 
given rise to it. 

“ What did you say, sir? Is Mrs. Clifton worse?” 

“ I asked if she has been here. I can not find her.” 

“Why, yes,” said Sally, now fully aroused. “She 
came here and woke me. That was just before twelve, 
for I heard the clock strike; she did not stay here a min- 
ute, sir.” 

“ Woke you?” repeated Mr. Clifton. “ What did she 
want? What did she come here for?” 

Thoughts are quick, imagination is quicker; and Sally 
was giving the reins to both. Mrs. Clifton’s gloomy and 
ambiguous words were crowding on her brain. Three 
o’clock! and she had not been in bed and was not to be 
found in the house! A nameless horror struggled to 
Sally’s face, her eyes dilating with it; she seized and threw 
on a flannel gown which lay on a chair by the bed, and 
forgetful of Mr. Clifton, who stood there, out she jumped 
to the floor. All minor considerations faded to insignifi- 
cance beside the terrible dread which had taken possession 


&R. CLitftON OS' BAllRiNG2X)3sf. 175 

of her. Clasping the flannel gown tight around her with 
one hand, she laid the other on the arm of Mr. Clifton. 

“ Oh, Mr. Clifton! oh! she has destroyed herself. I see 
it all now!” 

“Sally!” sternly interrupted Mr. Clifton. 

“ She has destroyed herself, as sure as that we two are 
standing here!” persisted Sally, her own face livid with 
emotion. “ I can understand her words now; I could not 
before. She came here and her face was like a corpse as 
the light fell upon it, saying she had come to get a promise 
from me to stay with her children when she was gone. I 
asked whether she was ill, and she answered: 

“ 4 Yes, ill and wretched!’ 

“ Oh, sir! may Heaven support you under this dreadful 
trial!” 

Mr. Clifton felt bewildered, perplexed. Not a syllable 
did he believe. He was not angry with Sally, for he 
thought she had lost her reason. 

“It is so, sir, incredible as you may deem my words!” 
pursued Sally, wringing her hands. “ Mrs. Clifton has 
been miserably unhappy, and that has driven her to it!” 

“ Sally, are you in your senses or out of them?” de- 
manded Mr. Clifton, a certain sternness in his tone. 44 Mrs. 
Clifton miserably unhappy? What do you mean by such 
an assertion?” 

Before Sally could answer, an addition was received to 
the company in the person of Miss Clifton, who, full of 
curiosity, and hearing voices in Sally’s room, which was 
above her own, had ascended, not chopsing to be shut out 
from the conference. 

“Whatever is the matter?” cried she. 44 Is Hazel 
found?” 

“ She is not found,” returned Sally, whose lamentable 
and unusual state of excitement completely overpowered 
her customary quiet respect and plain good sense. 44 And, 
ma’am, I am glad that you have come up, for what I was 
about to say to Mr. Clifton I would prefer to say in your 
presence. When Mrs. Clffton is brought into this house, 
and laid down before us, dead, what will your feelings be? 
You have made her life a misery. Yes you have!” 

44 Highty-tighty!” uttered Fannie, staring at Sally in 
consternation. 44 What is all this? Where is Mrs. Clif- 
ton?” 


176 MR. CLXFTOH OF BARRINGFOtf. 

44 She has gone and taken the life that was not hers to 
take,” sobbed Sally, 44 and 1 say she has been driven to it. 
She has not been allowed to indulge a will of her own, poor 
thing, since she came back to the Barrington estate; in her 
own house she has been less free than any one of her serv- 
ants. You have curbed her, ma’am, and snapped at her, 
and made her feel that she was a slave to your caprices and 
temper. All these years she has been crossed and put 
upon; everything, in fact, but beaten, ma’am; you know 
she has, and she has borne it all in silence, like a patient 
angel, never, as I believe, complaining to her husband. 
He can say whether she has or not. We all love her, we 
felt sorry for her; and Mr. Clifton’s heart would have bled 
had he suspected what she had to put up with day by day 
and year after year.” 

Miss Clifton’s tongue was glued to her mouth. Her 
brother, confounded at the rapid words, could scarcely 
gather in their sense. 

44 What is it you are saying, Sally?” he asked, in a low 
tone. 44 1 do not understand.” 

44 1 have longed to say it to you many a hundred times, 
sir, but it is right that you should hear it now things have 
come to this dreadful ending. Since the very night she 
came here your wife she has been taunted with the cost 
she has brought to the Barrington estate and to you. If 
she wanted but the simplest thing she was forbidden to have 
it, and told that she was bringing her husband to poverty. 
For this very dinner-party that she went to to-night, she 
wished for a new dress, and your cruel words, ma’am, for- 
bade her having it. She ordered a new dress for Miss Ethel, 
and you countermanded it. You have told her that her 
husband worked like a slave to support her extravagance 
when you know that she was never extravagant; that none 
were less inclined to go beyond proper limits than she. I 
have seen her, ma’am, come away from your reproaches 
with the tears in her eyes, and her hands meekly clasped 
upon her bosom, as though life was heavy to bear. A 
gentle-spirited, high-born lady, as she was, could not fail 
to be driven to desperation; and I know that she has been. ” 

Mr. Clifton turned to his sister. 

44 Can this be true?” he inquired, in a tone of deep agi- 
tation. 

She did not answer. Whether it was the shade cast by 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRIMGTOM* lW 

the reflection of the wax taper, her face looked of a green 
cast; and for the first time probably in Miss Clifton's life, 
her words failed. 

“ May you be forgiven, Fannie 1" he murmured as he 
went out of the room. 

He descended to his own. That his wife had laid violent 
hands upon herself his reason utterly repudiated; she was 
one of the least likely to commit so great a sin. He be- 
lieved that, in her unhappiness, she might have wandered 
out in the grounds, and was lingering there. By this time 
the house was aroused, and the servants were astir. Sally 
— surely a supernatural strength was given her, for though 
she had been able to put her foot to the ground, she had 
not yet walked upon it — crept down-stairs and went into 
Hazel's dressing-room. Mr. Clifton was hastily assuming 
the articles of attire he had not yet put on to go out and 
search the grounds when Sally limped in holding out a 
note. Sally did not stand on ceremony that night. 

“1 found this in the dressing-glass drawer, sir. It is 
Mrs. Clifton's writing." 

He took it in his hand, and looked at the address! 

“ Harold Clifton." Though a calm man, one who had 
his emotions under his own control, he was no stoic, and 
his fingers shook as he broke the seal. 

“ When years go on, and my children ask where their 
mother is, and why she left them, tell them that you, their 
father, goaded her on to it; tell them, at the same time, that 
you outraged and betrayed her ere she quitted them in 
her despair. 

“1 could have endured your sister’s abuse, but when 
you chose to forsake me for another my poor heart could 
bear no more. Farewell. " 

The letter swam before his eyes. How had he outraged 
her? In what manner had he goaded her to it? A horri- 
ble suspicion began to dawn upon him, but he could not 
put it in words. 

At that moment the voices of the servants in the corridor 
outside penetrated to his ears. Of course they were peer- 
ing about, and making their own comments— Cora, with 
her long tongue, the busiest. They were saying that Cap- 
tain St. Clare was not in his room, that his bed was not 
slept in. 


178 MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON. 

Sally sat on a chair — she could not stand watching Mr. 
Clifton. Never had she seen him betray agitation so pow- 
erful. He walked to the door, the open note in his hand, 
then turned, and stood still — as if he did not know what he 
was doing. Probably he did not. Then he took out his 
pocket-book, put the note inside it, and returned it to his 
pocket, his hands trembling equally with his livid lips. 

“ You need not mention this,” he said to Sally, indicat- 
ing the note. “ It concerns myself alone.” 

“ Sir, does it say she is dead?” 

“ She is not dead.” He was going to say, “ had left him 
with a broken heart.” 

“ Why, who is this?” uttered Sally. 

It was little Ethel, stealing in with a frightened face, in 
her little white gown. The commotion had aroused her. 

“ What is the matter?” she asked. “ Where's mam- 
ma?” 

“ Child, you'll catch your death of cold,” said Sally. 
“ Go back to bed.” 

“ But I want mamma.” 

“ In the morning, dear,” evasively returned Sally. 

Mr. Clifton left the room, and Sally heard him go out at 
the hall door, and bang it after him. Ethel went and stood 
outside the room door; the servants in a group near did 
not observe her. Presently she came running back, and 
disturbed Sally from her reverie. 

“ Sally, is it true?” 

“ Is what true, my dear?” 

“ They are saying that Captain St. Clare has taken away 
mamma?” 

“ Child, child, go to bed! They may say what they 
please, but Sally will never believe she has gone with that 
man. ” 

“ Oh, Sally, I want mamma! When will she come back?” 

Sally hid her face in her hands to conceal its emotion 
from the child. And just then Miss Clifton entered on tip- 
toe, and humbly sat down on a low chair, her face green 
with its grief, its remorse, and its horror. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

To return to Hazel. She was endowed with sensitively 
refined delicacy, with an innate, lively consciousness of right 


MU. CLIFTON OF FARRINGTON. 179 

and wrong. A nature such as hers is one of the last that 
may be expected to err, and but for that most fatal misap- 
prehension regarding her husband, the jealous belief 
fanned by Captain St. Clare, that his love was given to 
Lulu Osborne, and that the two were uniting to deceive 
her, she never would have fled from her home, her hus- 
band and children. 

The scales had been gradually falling from her eyes as 
to the true character of Captain St. Clare, and as she was 
speeding away from Barrington in the midnight train, and 
thought with bitterness of the three who had destroyed her 
life’s happiness, her only desire was to get as far away from 
them as she possibly could. 

The train was within a short distance of the station when 
there came a sudden shock and crash as of the day of doom; 
and engine, cars, and passengers lay in one confused mass 
at the foot of a steep embankment. The darkness added 
to the awful confusion. 

The car in which Hazel traveled lay beneath a superin- 
cumbent mass of ruins; she was among the last passengers 
to be extricated. Hazel was alive and conscious, but so se- 
verely injured that the medical men who had been brought 
to the spot in all haste turned from her to give their at- 
tention to the other sufferers whose case seemed less desper- 
ate. She heard them say that she would not survive ampu- 
tation, and that nothing else could be done; that she must 
die. She was unable to move, but the shock had deadened 
the sensation; she was not yet in pain, and her mind was 
for a short interval clear and lucid. A Sister of Charity 
approached the stretcher on which she had been laid, and 
offered her some water. Hazel drank eagerly. 

“ Is there anything else I can do?” asked the sister. 
“ Have you no message or instructions for your friends? 
If you will trust me, 1 will fulfill your wishes. While your 
mind is preserved clear it will be well to settle your duties 
toward those you are leaving behind.” 

The sister had heard what the doctor said of HazeBs con- 
dition. 

“Those who should be my friends will rejoice to hear 
that I am no more,” said Hazel. 

“ Can I write to any one for you?” asked the sister. 
“ Tell me now, while you can think of it.” 

“ Have you paper and writing things at hand? 


Write 


180 MU. CLIFTOH OF BARRINGTOM. 

then — direct the letter to Mr. Melborne, Esq. Could I not 
write a line myself? 1 think I could, if you will hold the 
paper before me; my hands are not injured, my intellect is 
clear. 55 

The compassionate sister complied, and Hazel contrived 
to scrawl a few words as she lay, first directing the letter 
to Mr. Melborne 5 s town house. They were to the effect 
that she was dying from the fatal injuries of the railway 
accident. She thanked Mr. Melborne for all his kindness 
to her; she was glad to die and to be at rest. 

“ Go to Mr. Clifton/ 5 she continued, “ say that 1 thank 
him for ail he has done for me, and ask him to sometimes 
talk to the children of their mother. 55 

She had written so far, when the torture of pain, which 
had begun to make itself more and more felt, was becoming 
intolerable. Gathering her strength for a last effort she 
wrote in characters like one on the rack might have signed 
his confession, “ Hazel/ 5 and whispered: 

“ Send it when I am dead — not before; and add a few 
words of confirmation. 55 

When at length the surgeon came up to Hazel to examine 
more minutely the injuries she had sustained* she was quite 
insensible, and they thought she was dead. They said so 
to the sister, who was then kneeling beside her, repeating 
the prayers appointed for the passing soul. She finished 
them, and retired to a distance, other sufferers claiming 
her services. She did not return to Hazel, whom she fully 
believed to be dead; and she dispatched the letter, writing 
in it, as requested, some words of confirmation. The dead 
were buried and a special mass was said for them. The 
survivors were sent to the Sisters Hospital; all that could 
be done for them was done, neither skill nor kindness being 
wanting. The sister who had been with Hazel at the first 
was detailed to another hospital at some distance, so she 
did not see Hazel again. 

Hazel recovered consciousness and found herself lying- 
on a snow-white bed and a gentle-faced sister bending over 
her. It was long before she could recall what had hap- 
pened or understand that she had not died. The surgeons, 
on further inspection, had found life still lingering in her 
shattered frame. The injuries were terrible enough, but 
not of necessity fatal, though the prospect of recovery was 
faint. It would have been cruel to have an operation with 


MR. CLIFTON OF ‘ BARRINGTON. 181 

slender chances of success, and they tried other means, 
which promised to succeed. Hazel was still fluctuating 
between life and death; but the tide began at length slowly 
to set in toward life. She remained in the hospital three 
months as a patient, and had endeared herself by her meek- 
ness and patience to all the good sisters, so it was not sur- 
prising, when she begged to remain longer, that the sisters 
were glad to keep her for an indefinite time. The change 
that had passed over her was little less than death itself; 
no one could have recognized in the pale, thin, shattered 
invalid she who had been known as Hazel Clifton. 

The letter was duly delivered to Mr. Melborne's address, 
but he was in Europe, and a year went by before he got it. 

A few mornings after the railroad accident Mr. Clifton 
left the Barrington estate and proceeded to his office as 
usual. Scarcely was he seated when Mr. Faber looked at 
him inquiringly, for it was not Mr. Clifton's custom to be 
intruded upon by any person until he had opened his let- 
ters; then he would ring for Mr. Faber. The letters and 
the newspaper lay on the table before him. The old gen- 
tleman came up in a covert, timid sort of way which made 
Mr. Clifton look all the more. 

“ 1 beg your pardon, sir. Will you let me ask if you have 
heard any particular news?” 

“ Yes, I have heard it,” replied Mr. Clifton. 

“ Then, sir, I beg your pardon a thousand times over. 
It occurred to me that you probably had not, Mr. Clifton, 
and I came upon it suddenly in the pafier, and came to 
prepare you.” 

“ To prepare me!” echoed Mr. Clifton, as Mr. Faber 
was turning away. “ Why, what has come to you, Faber? 
Are you afraid my nerves are growing delicate, or that I 
shall faint over the loss of a few hundred dollars? At the 
very most, we shall not suffer above that extent.” 

Mr. Faber turned back again. 

“ It's not that, Mr. Clifton. They won't effect us much; 
and — ” 

“ What is it, then?” 

“ Then you have not heard it, sir. I am glad I'm in 
time. It might not be well for you to have seen it without 
a word of preparation, Mr. Clifton.” 

“ If you have not gone demented, you will tell me what 
you mean, and leave nie to my letters,” cried Mr. Clifton, 


182 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


wondering excessively at his sober, matter-of-fact clerk’s 
words and manner. 

Mr. Faber laid his hand upon the newspaper. 

“ It’s here, Mr. Clifton, in the column of the deaths; 
the first on the list. Please prepare yourself a little before 
you look at it.” 

He shuffled out quickly, and Mr. Clifton as quickly un- 
folded the paper. It was as Mr. Faber said on the list of 
deaths. 

“On the 18th inst., Mrs. Hazel Clifton, only child of 
William Barrington, of the Barrington estate.” 

Clients called. Mr. Clifton’s bell did not ring; an hour 
or two passed, and Faber protested that Mr. Clifton was 
engaged, until he could protest no longer. He went in 
deprecatingly. Mr. Clifton sat yet with the newspaper be- 
fore him and the letters unopened at his elbow. His eye 
had caught sight of the account of the dreadful railroad 
disaster. First in the list of those who had met with the 
most horrible death was that of his poor unhappy wife. 

“ There’s one or two who will come in, Mr. Clifton, who 
will see you. What am I to say?” 

Mr. Clifton stared at him for a moment as if his 
thoughts had been in the next world. Then he swept the 
newspaper from before him, and was the calm, collected 
man of business again. 

Captain St. Clare, the sly fox, had not retired when Mr. 
Clifton came home that fatal night, and whatever put it 
into his mind, unless it was the helper of all evil, he went 
out and walked in the park and smoked his cigar. lie was not 
long there when he gave a low whistle of surprise. He saw 
Hazel stealing out of the gates into the main road; he saw 
also that she carried a small traveling-bag. He knew, in 
an instant, that she was making for the depot. He could 
see clearly what was up, and it took him but a second to 
make up his mind what to do. 

He hurried into the house and gathered his belongings 
together, and started off in hot haste after Hazel. He ar- 
rived just in time to see Hazel get on the train. It was 
not his intention to let her see him until he saw her get off 
the train, at whatever station it might be. 

It was evident that his day had not come yet; for he 
escaped with only a few bruises in the horrible smash- up. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


183 


And it was thus poor Hazel had to sueffr the bane of going 
off with that villain. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

“ Sally, there’s a lady asking for you,” said the man- 
servant. “ I have shown her into the gray parlor.” 

“ A lady for me?” repeated Sally. “ Who is it? Some 
one to see the children, perhaps?” 

“ It’s for yourself, I think. She asked for Miss Trues- 
dell.” 

Sally looked at the man, but she put down her work and 
proceeded to the gray parlor. A pretty woman, vain and 
dashing, threw up her veil at her entrance. 

“Well, Sally! How are you?” 

Sally, always pale, turned paler still as she gazed in 
blank consternation. Was it really Kate who stood before 
her? — Kate the erring. Kate it was. And she stood there, 
holding out her hand to Sally with what Cora would have 
called all the brass in the world. Sally could not reconcile 
her mind to link her own with it. 

“ Excuse me, Kate, but 1 can not take your hand. I 
can not welcome you here. What could have induced you 
to come?” 

“ If you are going to be upon your high heels, it seems 
I might as well have stayed away,” was Kate’s reply, given 
in the pert but good-humored manner she had ever used 
to Sally. “ My hand won’t damage yours. 1 am not 
poison!” 

“ You are looked upon in Barrington as worse than 
poison, Kate,” returned Sally in a tone not of anger but 
of sorrow. “ Where’s Tom Osborne?” 

Kate tossed her head. 

“ Where’s who?” asked she. 

“ Tom Osborne. My question was plain enough.” 

“ How should I know where he is? It’s like your im- 
pudence to mention him to me. Why don’t you ask me 
where Old Nick is, and how he does? I’d rather own ac- 
quaintance with him than with Tom Osborne, if I’d only 
my choice between the two?” 

“ Then you have left Tom Osborne? How long since?” 

“ I have left — what do you say?” broke off Kate, whose 
lips were quivering ominously with suppressed passion. 


184 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

“ Perhaps you’ll condescend to explain. 1 don’t under- 
stand. ” 

“ When you left here, Kate, did you not go after Tom 
Osborne?— -did you not join him?” 

“ I'll tell you what it is, Sally,” flashed Kate, her face 
indignant and her voice passionate. “ 1 have put up with 
some things from you in my time, but human nature has 
its limits of endurance, and I won’t bear that. I have 
never set eyes on Tom Osborne since that night of horror. 
I wish 1 could, I’d help to hang him.” 

Sally paused. The belief that Kate was with him had 
been long and deeply imbued within her; it was the long 
continued and firm conviction of all Barrington, and a set- 
tled belief such as that is not easily shaken. Was Kate tell- 
ing her the truth? She knew her propensity for making 
false statements when they served to excuse herself. 

“ Kate,” she said, at length, 44 let me understand you. 
When you left this place, was it not to share Tom Osborne’s 
flight? Have you not been living with him?” 

“ No,” burst forth Kate, with kindling eyes. “ Living 
with him! with our father’s murderer! Shame upon you, 
Sally Truesdell! you must be precious wicked yourself to 
suppose it.” 

“ If I have judged you wrongly, Kate, I sincerely beg 
your pardon. Not only myself, but the whole of Barring- 
ton believed you were with him, and the thought has caused 
me pain night and day.” 

“ What a cannibal-minded set you must all be, then!” 
was Kate’s indignant rejoinder. 

44 Not one in the place but thought so, with the excep- 
tion of Mr. Clifton,” proceeded Sally. “ He has said two 
or three times to me that he should not think you went to 
Tom Osborne, or were living with him.” 

44 Mr. Clifton has more sense than all Barrington put 
together,” complacently observed Kate. 44 Living with 
Tom Osborne! Why, I’d rather- go and live with a scalping 
red Indian!” 

44 But, Kate, where did you go then? Why did you leave 
at all?” 

44 Never mind why. It was not to be supposed that 1 
could stop at home in the cottage, with ghosts and dreams, 
and all those sort of things that attend a place where a 
murder has been committed.” 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRIMGTOM. 185 

“ What have you been doing ever since? Where have 
you been?” 

“ Never mind,” repeated Kate. “You have not been 
so complimentary to me, it appears, that I need put myself 
out of my way to satisfy your curiosity. I was knocking 
about at first, but 1 soon settled down as steady as you.” 

“ Are you married?” inquired Sally, noting the word 
“ settled.” 

“ Catch me marry,” retorted Kate; “ I like my liberty 
too well. Not but what I might be induced to change my 
condition if anything out of the way eligible .occurred; it 
must be very eligible, though, to tempt me. 1 am what I 
suppose you call yourself — a lady's-maid. ” 

“Indeed!” said Sally, much relieved. “And are you 
comfortable, Kate — are you in a good place?” 

“Middling for that. The pay is good, but there's a 
great deal to do, and my lady is a Tartar. What on earth 
could have induced you to fancy I should go off with that 
Tom Osborne?” she added, for she could not forget the 
grievance. 

“ Look at the circumstances,” argued Sally. “ You 
both disappeared. ” 

“ But not together.” 

“ Nearly together. There were only a few days inter- 
vening. And you had neither money nor friends.” 

“ You don't know what I had. But 1 would rather have 
died of want on my father's grave than have shared his 
means,” continued Kate, growing passionate again. “ And 
you ought to have made sure of that.” 

“ If you had but dropped me a line, Kate, it would have 
put a different aspect upon the whole affair. Your silence / 
helped me to misjudge you.” 

“ Misjudge me, indeed! Why, I never cared for Tom 
Osborne ! He was not the kind 1 fancied. ” 

“ You encouraged him to the house.” 

“ Well, I don't deny it. Had I known he was to turn 
out what he did, I would have had nothing to do with him. 
Where is he? Not hung, or I should have heard of it.” 

“ He has never been seen since that night, Kate.” 

“Nor heard of?” 

“ Nor heard of. Most people think he is in Australia 
or some other foreign land. ” 

“ The best place for him. The more distance he puts be- 


186 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTON. 


tween him and home, the better. If he ever does come 
back, 1 hope he’ll get his deserts — which is a rope’s-end. 
I’d go to his hanging!” 

“You are as bitter against him as his father. He would 
bring his son back to suffer if he could.” 

“A cross-grained old camel!” remarked Kate, in allu- 
sion to the qualities, social and amiable, of the judge. “ I 
don’t defend Tom Osborne — I hate him too much for that 
-—but if his father had treated him differently Tom might 
have been different. Well, let’s talk of something else. 
The subject invariably gives me the shivers. Who is mis- 
tress here?” 

“Miss Clifton.” 

“Oh! I might have guessed that. Is she as fierce as 
ever?” 

“ There is little alteration in her.” 

“ And there won’t be on this side of the grave. Sally, 
I don’t want to encounter her. She never liked me. ” 

“You need not fear meeting her. She is away — gone to 
Hillsdale for a week’s visit.” 

“ That’s good news. Then, who acts as mistress while 
she’s absent?” 

“I give the orders,” said Sally. “Mr. Clifton inter- 
feres very little. ” 

“ Is Mr. Clifton at home?” 

“ He will be home to dinner. I dare say you would 
like some dinner; you shall come and have it with me and 
Cora in the nursery.” 

“ 1 was thinking you might have the grace to offer me 
something,” said Kate. “ I intend to stop till to-morrow 
in the neighborhood. Don’t stare at me in that blank 
way, as if you feared 1 should ask to sleep here. I am 
already provided for.” 

“ I did not have such a thought, Kate. Come and take 
your hat off.” 

“Is the nursery full of children?” 

“ There is only one child in it. Miss Ethel and Master 
Frank are with the governess.” 

Cora received Kate with lofty condescension, having Tom 
Osborne in her thoughts. But Sally explained that it was 
all a misapprehension— that her sister had not been near 
Tom Osborne, but was as indignant against him as they 
Were. Upon which Cora grew cordial and chatty, rejoicing 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 187 

in the delightful recreation her tongue would enjoy that 
evening. 

Kate's account of herself as to past proceedings was cer- 
tainly not the most satisfactory in the world; but alto- 
gether, taking in the present, it was so vast an improve- 
ment upon Sally's conclusions that she had not felt so 
elated for many a day. When Mr. Clifton returned home 
Sally sought him and acquainted him with what had hap- 
pened: that Kate had come, was maid to a very nice lady, 
and, above all, “ that she had never been with Tom Os- 
borne." 

44 Ah! you remember what I said, Sally," he remarked. 
44 That I did not believe Kate was with Tom?" 

44 I have been telling Kate so, sir, and she says that you 
have got more sense than all Barrington put together." 

Mr. Clifton laughed. 

4 4 Does she seem steady, Sally?" 

4 4 1 think so, sir — steady for her. Have you any objec- 
tions to her staying all night with me, sir?" 

“Hone at all, Sally," replied Mr. Clifton. 44 Let her 
remain." 

Later in the evening, after Mr. Clifton's dinner, a mes- 
sage came that Kate was to go to him. Accordingly she 
proceeded to his presence. 

44 So, Kate, you ha ye returned to let Barrington know 
that you are alive. Sit down." 

44 Barrington may go walking in future, sir, for all the 
heed 1 shall take of it!" retorted Kate. 44 A set of wicked- 
minded scandal-mongers, to say 1 had gone off after Tom 
Osborne!" 

44 You should not have gone off at all, Kate." 

44 Well, sir, that was my business, and I chose to go. I 
could not stay in the cottage after that night's work." 

“There's a mystery attached to that night's work, 
Kate," observed Mr. Clifton — 44 a mystery that I can not 
fathom. Perhaps you can help me out. " 

44 What mystery, sir?" returned Kate. 

Mr. Clifton leaned forward, his arms on the table. Kate 
had taken a chair at the other end of it. 

44 Who was it that committed the murder?" he demand- 
ed, in a grave and somewhat imperative tone. 

Kate stared some moments before she replied, evidently 
astonished at the question. 


188 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

“ Who committed the murder, sir?” she uttered, at 
length. 44 Tom Osborne committed it. Everybody knows 
that.” 

“ Did you see it done?” 

“ No,” replied Kate. 44 If 1 had seen it, the fright and 
horror would have killed me. Tom Osborne quarreled 
with my father, and drew the gun upon him in his pas- 
sion. ” 

44 You assume this to be the case, Kate, as others have 
assumed it. I do not think it was Tom Osborne who killed 
your father.” 

44 Not Tom Osborne!” exclaimed Kate, after a pause. 
44 Then who do you think did it, sir? I?” 

44 Nonsense, Kate!” 

44 1 know he did it,” proceeded Kate. 44 It is true that 
I did not see it done, but 1 know it, for all that. I know 
it, sir!” 

44 You can not know it, Kate.” 

44 1 do know it, sir; I would not assert it to you if I did 
not. If Tom Osborne were here present before us, and 
swore till he was black in the face that it was not he, I 
could convict him.” 

44 By what means?” 

44 1 had rather not say, sir. But you may believe me, 
for I am speaking the truth. ” 

44 There was another friend of yours present that even- 
ing, Kate — Captain Tilford.” 

Kate’s face turned crimson; she was evidently confused. 
But Mr. Clifton’s speech and manner were authoritative, 
and she saw that it would be useless to attempt to trifle 
with him. 

44 1 know he was, sir. A young man who used to ride 
some evenings to see me. He had nothing to do with what 
occurred.” 

44 Where did he ride from?” 

44 He was stopping with some friends at Hillsdale. He 
was nobody, sir.” 

44 What was his name?” questioned Mr. Clifton. 

44 Tilford,” said Kate. 

44 1 mean his real name. Tilford was an assumed 
name.” 

44 Oh, dear/ no!” returned Kate. 44 Tilford was his 
name,” 


MB. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


189 


Mr. Clifton paused and looked at her. 

“ Kate, 1 have reason to believe that Tilford was only an 
assumed name. Now, I have a motive for wishing to know 
his real one, and you would very much oblige me by con- 
fiding it to me. What is it?” 

“ I don't know that he had any other name. 1 am sure 
he had no other,” persisted Kate. “ He was Captain Til- 
ford.” 

“You have seen him since?” 

“ Once in awhile we have met.” 

“ Where is he now?” 

“ Now? Oh, my goodness, I don't know anything about 
him now!” said Kate. “ I have not heard of him or seen 
him for a long while. I think 1 heard something about his 
going to France.” 

“ Kate, do you know anything of his family?” 

Kate shook her head. 

“ 1 don't think he has any. 1 never heard him mention 
so much as a brother or sister.” 

“ And you persist in saying his name was Tilford?” 

“ I persist in it because it was his name. I am positive 
it was his name.” 

“ Kate, shall 1 tell you why I want to find him? 1 be- 
lieve it was he who murdered your father. " 

Kate's eyes and mouth gradually opened, and her face 
tyirned h6t and cold alternately. Then passion mastered 
her, and she burst forth: 

“It's a lie! I beg your pardon, sir, but whoever told 
you that told you a lie. Tilford had no more to do with 
it than I had. I'll swear to it!” 

“ Kate, 1 tell you 1 believe Tilford to have been the 
man. You were not present; you can not know who actu- 
ally did it.” 

“ Yes, I can, and do know,” said Kate, bursting into 
tears of hysterical passion. “ Tilford was with me when it 
happened; so it could not have been Tilford. It was that 
wicked Tom Osborne. Have 1 not said that I'll swear to 
it?” 

“ Tilford was with you at the moment of the murder?” 
repeated Mr. Clifton. 

“Yes, he was,” shrieked Kate, nearly beside herself 
with emotion. “ Whoever has been trying to put it off 
Tom Osborne and on to him is a wicked, false-hearted 


190 


MR. CLIRTOM OF BARRINGTON. 


wretch! It was Tom Osborne, and nobody else, and 1 hope 
he'll be hung for it yet!" 

“ You are telling me the truth, Kate?" said Mr. Clif- 
ton. 

“ Truth!" echoed Kate, flinging up her hands. “ Would 
1 tell a lie over my poor father's death? If Tilford had 
done it, would I screen him or put it on Tom Osborne? 
No, no!" 

Mr. Clifton felt uncertain and bewildered. That Kate 
was sincere in what she said was too apparent. He spoke 
again; but Kate had risen from her chair to leave. 

“ Clarke was in the woods that evening, Gurdy Hood 
was in it. Could either of them have been the culprit?" 

“ No, sir!" firmly retorted Kate; “ the culprit was Tom 
Osborne, and I'd say it with my last breath; I'd say it be- 
cause I know it, though I don't choose to say how 1 know 
it. Time enough when he gets taken." 

She quitted the room, leaving Mr. Clifton in a state of 
puzzled bewilderment. Was he to believe Kate, or was he 
to believe the assertion of Tom Osborne? 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

In one of the comfortable sitting-rooms of the Barring- 
ton estate sat Mr. Clifton and sister one very stormy night 
in January. The contrast within and without was. great. 
The warm, blazing fire in the grate, the handsome carpet 
on which it flickered, the exceedingly comfortable arrange- 
ment of the furniture of the room altogether, and the light 
of the chandelier which fell on all, presented a picture of 
home peace, though it may not have deserved the name of 
luxury. 

Without, heavy flakes of snow were falling thickly, ren- 
dering the atmosphere so dense and obscure that a man 
could not see a yard before him. Mr. Clifton had driven 
home in the pony-carriage, and the snow had so settled 
upon him, even in that short time, that Ethel, who hap- 
pened to see him as he entered the hall, screamed out 
laughingly that her papa had turned into a white man. 

It was now later in the evening; the children were in 
bed, and the house was quiet. Mr. Clifton was deeply in 
the pages of the monthly periodicals, and Miss Clifton sat 


&R. CLIFTON OF BARkltfGTOtf. 191 

on the other side of the fire, grumbling and grunting and 
sniffing. 

Miss Clifton was one of your strong-minded ladies who 
never condescend to be ill. Of course, had she been at- 
tacked with scarlet fever, or paralysis, or St. Vitus’s dance, 
she must have given in to the enemy; but trifling ailments, 
such as headache, influenza, sore throat, which other peo- 
ple get, passed by her. 

Imagine, therefore, her exasperation at finding her head 
stuffed up, her chest sore, and her voice gone. For once in 
her life she had caught cold. 

“ What’s the time, I wonder?” exclaimed Miss Clifton. 

Mr. Clifton looked at his watch. 

‘ 6 It is just nine.” 

“ Then I think 1 shall go to bed. I’ll have a bowl of 
arrowroot or gruel, or some slop of that sort, after I’m in 
it. I’m sure I have been free enough all my life from re- 
quiring such sick-dishes.” 

“ Do so,” said Mr. Clifton. “ It may do you good.” 

“ There is one thing excellent for a cold in the head, I 
know. It’s to double your flannel petticoat crossways, or 
any other large piece of flannel you may conveniently have 
at hand, and put it on over your night-cap. I’ll try it.” 

“ I would,” said Mr. Clifton, smothering an irreverent 
laugh. 

She sat on five minutes longer, and then left, wishing 
Mr. Clifton good -night. He resumed his reading. But 
another page or two concluded the article, upon which 
Mr. Clifton threw the book on the table, arose, and 
stretched himself as if tired of sitting. He stirred the fire 
into a brighter blaze, and stood on the hearth-rug. 

“ I wonder if it snows yet?” he said to himself. 

Proceeding k> the window, one of those which opened to 
the ground, he drew aside the half of the warm, crimson 
curtain. It all looked dull and dark outside. 

Mr. Clifton could see little what the weather was, and he 
opened the window and stepped half out. 

The snow was falling faster and thicker than ever. Not 
at that did Mr. Clifton start with surprise, if not with a 
more unpleasant sensation, but at feeling a man’s hand 
touch his, and finding a man’s face nearly in contact with 
his own. 

“ Let me come in, Mr. Clifton, for the love of life! I 


192 MR. CLIFTOK OF BARRIHGTOM. 

see you are alone. I’m dead beat, and I don't know but 
Tin dogged also.” 

The tone struck familiarly on Mr. Clifton's ear. He 
drew back mechanically; a thousand perplexing sensations 
overwhelmed him, and the man followed him into the 
room — a white man, as Ethel had called her father. Ay, 
for he had been hours and hours on foot in the snow; his 
hat, his clothes, his eyebrows, his large whiskers, all were 
white. 

“ Lock the door, please!” were his first words. 

Need you be told that it was Tom Osborne? 

Mr. Clifton fastened the window, drew the heavy cur- 
tains across it, and turned rapidly to lock the two doors. 
For there were two to the room, one of them leading into 
the adjoining one. Tom, meanwhile, took off his wet coat, 
his hat, and his false black whiskers, wiping the snow from 
the latter with his hand. 

“ Tom,” uttered Mr. Clifton, “lam thunder-struck. I 
fear you have done wrong to come here!” v 

“ I cut off from New York at a moment's notice,” re- 
plied Tom, who was literally shivering with cold. “ I'm 
dogged, Mr. Clifton; the detectives are after me, set on 
by that wretch Tilford. " 

Mr. Clifton turned to the sideboard and poured out 
some brandy. 

“ Drink it, Tom; it will warm you.” 

“ I'd rather have it in some hot water.” 

“ But how am I to get the hot water brought in? 
Drink this now. Why, how you tremble!” 

“ A few hours outside in that cold snow is enough to 
make the strongest man tremble. And it lies so deep in 
some places. But I'll tell you about this business. A 
fortnight ago 1 was at a cab-stand talking to a cab-driver, 
when some drops of snow came down. A gentleman and 
lady were passing at the time, but I had not paid any at- 
tention to them. I heard him exclaim to her, 4 1 think we 
are going to have a storm. We had better take a cab, my 
dear.' With that the man 1 was talking to swung open 
the door of his cab, and she got in — such a fair, young 
girl! I turned to look at him, and you might have 
knocked me down with astonishment, Mr. Clifton. It was 
the man Tilford!” 

“Indeed!” 


MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON". 


193 


“You thought I might be mistaken in him that moon- 
light night; but there was no mistaking him in broad day- 
light. I looked him fall in the face, and he looked at me. 
He turned as white as a cloth; perhaps I did — 1 don’t 
know.” 

“Was he well dressed?” 

“Very. Oh! there's no mistaking his position. That 
he moves in the high circles, there’s no doubt. The cab 
drove away, and I got up behind it. The driver thought 
boys were there, and turned his. head and his whip, but I 
made him a sign. We didn’t go much more than a block. 
I was on the sidewalk before Tilford was, and looked at 
him again, and again he went white. I marked the house, 
thinking it was where he lived, and — and — ” 

“ Why did you not give him into custody, Tom?” 

Tom shook his head. 

“ And my proofs of his guilt, Mr. Clifton? I could 
bring none against him; no positive ones. No, 1 must 
wait till I can get proofs to do that. lie would turn round 
upon me now, and swear my life away to render his secure; 
perhaps testify that he saw me commit the murder. Well, 
I thought I’d ascertain for certain what his name was, and 
that night I went to the house and got into conversation 
with one of the servants who was standing at 1 the door. 

“ ‘ Does Captain Tilford live here?’ I asked him. 

“ 4 Mr. Lake lives here,’ said he; ‘I don’t know any 
Captain Tilford. ’ 

“ Then that’s his name, thought I to myself. 

“ ‘ A youngish man, isn’t he?’ said I; 4 very smart, with 
a pretty wife?’ 

4 4 4 1 don’t know what you call youngish,’ he laughed. 

44 Well, Mr. Clifton, I could get at nothing satisfactory; 
the fellow said that the gentleman that owned the house 
was just up from a long illness, and a good many people 
came to see him. 4 He was sixty years or more, and there 
were no young people living there except the servants.’ ” 

44 Is this all, Tom?” 

44 All? I wish it had been all. 1 kept looking about for 
him in all the best streets. I was half mad. ” 

44 Do you not wonder, if he is in this position of life and 
resides in New York, that you have never dropped upon 
him previously?” interrupted Mr. Clifton. 

44 No, sir; and I’ll tell you why: 1 have been afraid to 


194 MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON". 

show myself in those better parts of the city, fearing 1 
might meet with some one I used to know at home who 
would recognize me; so 1 have kept mostly in secure 
places. I had gone to the upper part of the city this day 
on a matter of business.” 

“ Well, go on with your story.” 

“In a week’s time I came upon him again. He was 
coming out of the Fifth Avenue Theater, and 1 went up 
and stood before him. 

“ 4 What do you want, fellow?’ he asked. 4 1 have seen 
you watching me before this. ’ 

“ 4 1 want to know your name,’ 1 said; ‘ that’s enough 
for me at present.’ 

4 4 He flew into a fierce passion, and swore that if ever he 
caught sight of me near him again he would hand me over 
into custody. 

“ 4 And, remember, men are not given into custody for 
watching others,’ he significantly added. 4 1 know you, 
and if you have any regard for yourself, you’ll keep out of 
my way.’ 

4 4 He got into a grand private carriage as he spoke, and 
drove away.” * 

44 When do you say this happened?” 

44 A week ago. Well, I could not rest; I was half mad. 
I went about, still trying to discover his name, and who he 
was. 1 did come upon him once; but he was walking 
quickly, arm in arm with another gentleman. Again I 
saw him standing at the entrance to the park, talking to the 
same gentleman, and his face turned savage — 1 believe with 
fear as much as with anger — when he saw me. He seemed 
to hesitate, and then, as if he acted in a passion, suddenly 
beckoned to a policeman, pointed me out, and said some- 
thing to him in a fast tone. That frightened me, and I 
slipped away. Two hours later, when I was in quite a 
different part of the town, in turning my head I saw the 
same policeman following me. 1 bolted under the horses 
of a passing vehicle, cut into some turnings and passages, 
through into another street, and got up beside a cabman, 
who was on his box driving fast. I reached my lodgings 
in safety, as 1 thought; but, happening to glance into the 
street, there I saw the policeman again, standing opposite 
and reconnoitering the house. I had gone home hungry, 
but this took all my hunger away from me. I opened the 


Mil. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 195 

box where I kept my disguise, put it on, and got out by a 
back way. I have been pretty nearly on my feet ever 
since, coming here; I only got a ride now and then.” 

“ But, Tom, do you know that Barrington is the very 
worst place you could have flown to? It has come to light 
that you were here before, disguised as a farm laborer.” 

“ Who the deuce betrayed that?” ejaculated Tom. 

“ I am unable to tell; I can not even imagine. The 
rumor was rife in the place, and it reached your father's 
ears. That rumor may make people's wits sharper to 
know your disguise than they otherwise might have been.” 

“But what was I to do? I was forced to come here 
first* to get a little money. I shall fix myself up in some 
other disguise, and go to a large city, far away from New 
York, and see what employment I can get into; but I must 
have something to live upon till I get it. I don't possess 
a penny,” he added. “ The last coppers I had I spent in 
bread and cheese at midday. 1 have been outside that win- 
dow for more than an hour.” 

“Indeed?” 

“ As 1 neared Barrington I began tol think what 1 should 
do. It was of no use trying to catch Lulu's attention on a 
night like this; 1 had no money to pay for a lodging; so I 
turned off here, hoping by good luck to drop upon 
you. There was a little part in this window curtain; it 
had not been drawn close, and through it 1 could see you 
and Miss Clifton. I saw her leave the room; I saw you 
come to the window and open it, and then I spoke. Mr. 
Clifton,” he added, after a pause, “ is this sort of life to 
go on with me as long as I live?” 

“I am deeply sorry for you, Tom,” was the sympathiz- 
ing answer. “ I wish I could remedy it.” 

Before another word was spoken the room door was tried, 
and then gently knocked at. Mr. Clifton placed his hand 
on Tom, who was looking scared out of his wits. 

“ Be still; be at ease, Tom; no one shall come in. It is 
only John.” 

Not John's voice, however, but Sally's was heard in re- 
sponse to Mr. Clifton's demand of who was there. 

“ Miss Clifton has left her handkerchief down-stairs, sir, 
and has sent me to get it.” 

“ You can not come in; I am busy,” was the answer, 
delivered in a clear and most decisive tone. 


196 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


“ Who was it?” quivered Tom, as Sally was heard going 
away. 

“It was Sally.” 

“ What, is she here still? Has anything ever been heard 
of Kate?” 

“ Kate was here herself two or three months ago.” 

“Was she?” said Tom, beguiled for an instant from the 
thought of his own danger. “ What is she doing?” 

“ She is in service as lady’s-maid. Tom, I questioned 
Kate about Tilford. She protested solemnly to me that 
it was not Tilford who committed the deed; that it could 
not have been he, for Tilford was with her at the moment 
of its being done.” 

“ It's not true,” said Tom. “ It was Tilford.” 

“ Tom, you can not tell; you did not see it done.” 

“ 1 know that no man could have rushed out in that 
frantic manner, with those signs of fear and guilt about 
him, unless he had been engaged in a bad deed,” was Tom 
Osborne’s answer. “ It could have been no one else.” 

“Kate declares he was with her,” repeated Mr. Clif- 
ton. 

“ Look here, sir; you are a sharp nlan, and folks say 1 
am not, but I can see things, and draw my reasonings as 
well as they can, perhaps. If Tilford was not Truesdeli’s 
murderer, why should he be persecuting me? What would 
he care about me? And why should his face turn livid, as 
it has done each time he has seen my eyes on him? 
Whether he committed the murder, or whether he didn’t, 
he must know that 1 did not, because he came upon me 
waiting as he was tearing from the cottage.” 

Tom’s reasoning was not bad. 

“ Another thing,” he reasoned. “ Kate swore at the in- 
quest that she was alone when the deed was done; that she 
was alone in the woods at the back of the cottage, and 
knew nothing about it until afterward. How could she 
have sworn she was alone if Tilford was with her?” 

The facts had entirely escaped Mr. Clifton’s memory in 
his conversation, with Kate, or he would not have failed to 
point out the discrepancy, and to inquire how she could 
reconcile it. Yet her assertion to him had been most posi- 
tive and solemn. There were difficulties in the matter 
which he could not reconcile. 

“Now that 1 have got over my love for Kate, 1 can see 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 197 

her faults, Mr. Clifton. She’d no more stop at an un- 
truth than she’d stop — ” 

A most awful thundering at the room door, loud enough 
to bring the very house down. No officers of justice, 
searching for a fugitive, ever made a louder. Tom, whose 
face turned to a chalk white, his eyes starting, and his light 
hair bristling with horror, struggled into his wet coat after 
a fashion, the tail up above his ears and the sleeves hang- 
ing, forced his hat on and his false whiskers, looking round 
in a bewildering manner for some closet or mouse-hole into 
which he might creep. 

“ Tom, be a man; put aside this weakness, this fear. 
Have I not told you that harm shall not come near you in 
my house?” 

“ It may be an officer from New York; he may have 
brought half a dozen more with him,” gasped the unhappy 
Tom. “ 1 said they may have dogged me all the way 
here. ” 

“Nonsense! Sit down and be at rest. It is only my 
sister, and she will be as anxious to shield you from dan- 
ger as I.” 

“ Is it?” cried the relieved Tom. “ Can’t you make her 
keep out?” he continued, his teeth still chattering. 

“ No, that I can not, if she has a mind to come in,” was 
the candid answer. “ You remember what she was Tom; 
she is not altered. ” 

Knowing that to speak on this side of the door to his 
sister, when she was in one of her resolute moods, would be 
of no manner of use, Mr. Clifton opened the door, dex- 
terously swung himself through it, and shut it after him. 
There she stood in a fierce passion. 

Sally returned to Miss Clifton, and said she could not 
go into the room, for the door was locked, and Mr. Clifton 
called out he was busy. 

Food for Miss Clifton. She, feeling sure that no visitor 
had come to the house, ran her thoughts rapidly over the 
members of the household, and came to the conclusion that 
it must be the governess, Miss Lee, who had dared to closet 
herself with Mr. Clifton. This unlucky governess was 
pretty, and Miss Clifton had been cautious to keep her and 
her prettiness very much out of her brother’s sight. She 
knew the attraction he would present to her vision, or to 
those of any other unprovided-for governess. Oh, yes! it 


198 


MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 


was Miss Lee; she had stolen in believing she. Miss Clifton, 
was safe for the night; but she’d just unearth my lady! 
And what could possess Harold to lock the door? Look- 
ing round for something warm to throw over her shoulders, 
and catching up an article that looked as much like a green- 
baize table-cover as anything else, and throwing it on, down 
stalked Miss Clifton. And in this trim Mr. Clifton beheld 
her when he came out. 

“ Who have you got in that room?” she curtly asked. 

“ It is some one on business,” was his prompt reply. 
“ Fannie, you can not go in.” 

She very nearly laughed. 

“ Not go in?” 

“Indeedit is much better that you should not. Fray 
go back. You will make your cold worse standing there. ” 

“ Now, I want to know whether you are not ashamed of 
yourself?” she deliberately pursued. “ You, a married 
man, with children in your house? I’d rather have be- 
lieved anything downright wicked of myself than of you, 
Harold.” 

Miss Clifton stared considerably. t 

“ Come, I’ll have her out. And out of this house she 
tramps to-morrow morning! A couple of audacious ones, 
to be in there with the door locked, the moment you 
thought you had got rid of me! Stand aside, I say, Harold; 
I will enter!” 

Mr. Clifton never felt more inclined to laugh. And to 
Miss Clifton’s exceeding discomposure she at this juncture 
saw the governess emerge from the gray parlor, glance at 
the hall clock, and retire again. 

“ Why! she’s there!” she uttered. “ I thought she was 
with you. ” 

“ Miss Lee locked in with me! Is that the idea, Fannie? 
I think your cold has obscured your reason. ” 

“Well, 1 shall go in, all the same. I tell you, Harold, 
that I will see who is there.” 

“If you persist in going in, you must go. But allow 
me to warn you that you will find tragedy in that room, 
not comedy. There is no woman in it; but there is a man; 
a man who came in through the window like a hunted stag; 
a man upon whom a ban is set, and who fears the police 
are upon his track. Can you guess who?” 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


199 . 


It was Fannie’s turn to stare now. She opened her dry 
lips to speak, but they closed again. 

“It is Tom Osborne. There’s not a roof in the world 
open to him this bitter night.” 

She said nothing. A long pause of dismay, and then she 
motioned to have the door opened. 

“ You will not show yourself in that plight?” 

“Not show myself in this plight to Tom Osborne, whom 
I have whipped — when he was a child— ten times a day! 
Stand on ceremony with him ! 1 dare say he looks no bet- 
ter than I do. But it’s nothing short of madness, Harold, 
for him to come here. ” 

He left her to enter, telling her to lock the door as soon 
as she got inside, and went into the adjoining room, which, 
by another door, opened to’ the one Tom was in. There 
he rang the bell. It was answered by the footman. 

“ Send John to me.” 

“ Lay supper here, John, for two,” began Mr. Clifton 
when the old servant appeared. “ A person is with me on 
business. What have you in the house?” 

“ There’s some cold roast beef, sir, and some home-made 



“ That will do,” said Mr. Clifton. “ Put a pot of hot 
coffee on the table, and everything likely to be wanted. 
And then every one can go to bed. We will be late. Oh 
— and John —none of you must come near the rooms, this 
or the next, under any pretense whatever, unless 1 ring, 
for I shall be too busy to be disturbed.” 

“ Very well, sir. Shall I serve the ham also?” 

“ The ham?” 

“ I beg pardon, sir. I guessed it might be Mr. Faber, 
and he is so fond of our hams.” 

“ Ah, you were always a shrewd guesser, John. He is 
fond of ham, 1 know. Yes, you may put it on the table.” 

The consequence of which little finesse on Mr. Clifton’s 
part was that John had announced in the kitchen that Mr. 
Faber had arrived, and supper was to be served for two. 

“But what a night for the old gentleman to have trudged 
through on foot!” 

“ And what a trudge he’ll have of it back again, for it’ll 
be worse then!” chimed in one of the maids. 

When Mr. Clifton got back to the, other room his sister 
and Tom had scarcely finished staring at each other. 


200 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

“ Please lock the door, Miss Clifton/’ began shivering 
Tom. 

“ The door’s locked,” snapped she. “ But what on 
earth brought you here, Tom? You must be worse than 
mad. Are you going to dance a hornpipe through the 
streets of Barrington to-morrow, and show yourself?” 

“ Not if 1 can help it,” said poor Tom. 

“You might just as well do that, if you come, to Bar- 
rington at all, for you can’t be here now without being 
found out.” 

“ The life I lead is dreadful,” cried Tom, “ to be in exile, 
banned, disgraced, afraid to show myself in b^oad daylight 
amid my fellow-men, in dread every hour that the sword 
may fall! I would almost as soon be dead as continue to 
live it.” 

“ Well, you have got nobody to grumble at; you brought 
it upon yourself,” philosophically returned Miss Clifton 
as she opened the door to admit her brother. “ And where 
are you going to lodge to-night?” asked Miss Cliftpn. 

“ I don’t know,” was the broken-spirited answer sighed 
forth. “ If 1 lay myself down in a snow-drift, and am 
found frozen in the morning, it won’i be of much mo- 
ment. ” 

“Was that what you thought of doing?” returned Miss 
Clifton. 

“ No,” he wildly said. “ What 1 had thought of doing 
was to ask Mr. Clifton for the loan of a little money, and 
then I can get a bed. I know a place where I will be in 
safety, twojor three miles from here.” 

“ Tom, 1 would not turn a dog out on such a night as 
this,” impulsively uttered Mr. Clifton. 4 ‘ You must stop 
here.” 

“ Indeed, I don’t see how he is to get up to a bedroom; 
or how a room is to be made ready for him, for the matter 
of that, without betraying his presence to the servants,” 
snapped Miss Clifton. And poor Tom laid his aching head 
upon his hands. 

But now Miss Clifton’s manner was more in fault than 
her heart. Will it be believed that before speaking the 
above ungracious words, before Mr. Clifton had touched 
upon the subject, she had been casting about in her busy 
mind for the best plan for Tom, how he could be accom- 
modated. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 201 

“ One thing is certain/ * she resumed: 44 that it will be 
impossible for you to sleep here without it being known 
to Sally. And I suppose you are on the friendly terms of 
drawn daggers with Sally, for she believes you were the 
murderer of her father.” 

44 Allow me to see her and convince her. Mr. Clifton, 
why did you not tell Sally better?” 

44 There’s that small room at the back of mine,” said 
Miss Clifton, returning to the practical part of the sub- 
ject. 44 He might sleep there, but Sally must be taken into 
confidence. ” 

44 Sally had better come in,” said Mr. Clifton. 44 1 will 
say a word or two to her first.” 

He unlocked the door and quitted the room. Miss Clifton, 
as jealously locking it again, called to Sally, and beckoned 
her into the adjoining apartment. He knew that Sally’s 
belief in the guilt of Tom Osborne was confirmed and 
strong; but he must uproot that belief if Tom was to sleep 
in his house all night. 

44 Sally,” he began, 44 you remember how thoroughly im- 
bued you were with the belief that Kate went off after Tom 
Osborne? I several times expressed my doubts upon the 
point; the fact was, I had positive information that she 
was not with him, and never had been, though I considered 
it expedient to keep my information to myself. You are 
convinced now that she was not with him?” 

44 Of course I am, sir-” 

44 Well, you see, Sally, that my opinion would have been 
worth listening to. Now, I am going to shake your belief 
upon another point, and if I assure you that I have equally 
good grounds for doing so, you will believe me?” 

44 1 am quite certain, sir, that you would state nothing 
but what is true; and 1 know your judgment is sound.” 

44 Then I must tell you that I do not believe it was Tom 
Osborne who murdered your father. ” 

44 Sir!” uttered Sally, amazed out of her senses. 

44 1 believe Tom Osborne to be as innocent of the murder 
as you or I,” he deliberately repeated. 44 1 have held 
grounds for this cpinionfor many years.” 

44 Then, sir, who did do it?” 

44 Kate’s other lover. That dandy fellow— Tilford, as I 
truly believe.” 

44 And you say you have grounds, sir?” 


202 


NR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


* “ Good grounds; and 1 tell you I have been in possession 
of them for years. I would like you to think as 1 do.” 

“But, sir, if Tom was innocent, why did he run away 
and keep away?” 

“Ah, why, indeed! It is that which has done the mis* 
chief. His own weak cowardice was his fault; he feared to 
come back, and he felt that he could not remove the odium 
of circumstances. Sally, 1 should like you to see him and 
hear his story.” 

“ There is not much chance of that, sir. I dare say he 
will never venture here again.” 

“ He is here now.” 

Sally looked up considerably startled. 

“ Here in this house,” repeated Mr. Clifton. “ He has 
taken shelter in it, and for the few hours that he will re- 
main we must extend our hospitality and protection to him, 
concealing him in the best manner we can. I thought it 
well that this confidence should be reposed in you, Sally. 
Come now, and see him.” 

Considering that it was a subdued interview — the voices 
subdued, I mean — it was a confused one. Tom talked 
vehemently, Sally asking question after question. Miss Clif- 
ton’s tongue going as fast as theirs. The only silent 6ne 
was Mr. Clifton. Sally could not refuse to believe pro- 
testations so solemn, and her suspicions veered round upon 
Captain Tilford. 

“ And now about the bed,” inter jected Miss Clifton, im- 
patiently. “ Whereas he to sleep, Sally? The only safe 
room that 1 know of will be the one through mine.” 

“ He can’t sleep there, ma’am. Don’t you know that the 
key of the door was lost last week, and we can’t open it?” 

“ So much the better. He’ll be all the safer.” 

“ But how is he to get in?” 

“ To get in? Why, through my room, of course. Does 
mine not open to it, stupid?” 

“ Oh, well, ma’am, if you would like him to go through 
yours that’s different.” 

“ Why shouldn’t he go through? Do you suppose I 
mind young Tom Osborne? Hot I, indeed,” she irascibly 
continued. “ I only wish he was young enough for me to 
flog him as 1 used to do, that’s all. He deserves it as much 
as anybody ever did, playing the fool, as he has done, in 
all ways, X shall be in bed with the curtains down; and 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 203 

his passing through won’t harm him. Standing on cere- 
mony with Tom Osborne! What next, I wonder?” 

This point being settled, Sally went to put the sheets 
upon the bed, and Miss Clifton returned to her own. Mr. 
Clifton, meanwhile, took Tom into supper, and fed him 
plentifully, and made him comfortable. Under the influ- 
ence of the good cheer, the good fire, and the hot glass of 
brandy and water which wound up the entertainment, 
Tom fell asleep in his chair. Not five minutes had he 
slept, however, when he started up wild and haggard, beat- 
ing off, as it were, some imaginary assailant. 

44 It was not 1!” he uttered, fearfully and passionately. 
4 4 It is of no use to take me, for it was not 1. It was an- 
other; he who — ” 

“Tom! Torn!” soothingly said Mr. Clifton. 

Tom cast his bewildered eyes on the supper-table, the 
fire, on Mr. Clifton, all reassuring objects to look upon. 

44 1 declare, I dreamed that they had grabbed me. What 
stupid things dreams are!” 

At this moment there came a gentle knock at the door, 
and Mr. Clifton opened it. It was Sally. 

44 The room is ready, sir,” she whispered, 44 and every- 
body is in bed. ” 

44 Then, now is your time, Tom. Good-night.” 

He stole upstairs after Sally, who piloted him through 
the room of Miss Clifton. Nothing could be seen of that 
lady, though something might be heard. One given to truth 
more than politeness might have called it snoring. 

Sally showed Tom his room, and closed the door upon 
him. 

Poor hunted Tom! Good-night to you! 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

Morning dawned. The same dull weather, the same 
heavy fall of snow. Miss Clifton took her breakfast in bed, 
an indulgence she had not favored for ever so many years. 
Tom arose, but remained in his room, and Sally carried 
his breakfast in to him. 

Mr. Clifton entered while he was taking it. 

44 How did you sleep, Tom?” 


204 


ME. CLIFTOM OF BAKEINGTON. 


next, Mr. Clifton? The sooner I get away from this, the 
better. I can’t feel safe. ” 

44 You must not think of it before evening. I am aware 
that you can remain here only for a few hours, as it 
would become known to the servants. It is difficult to me, 
Tom, to believe that this Captain Tilford is in the class of 
life you speak of,” observed Mr. Clifton. 44 For to one in 
liis class of life, the bare suspicion of such a crime brought 
against him would crush him forever in the eyes of his 
compeers.” 

44 There’s no doubt about it; there’s none, indeed. But 
that I did not much like to mention the name — for it can’t 
be a pleasant name to you — I should have said last night 
who I have seen him walking with,” said Tom. 

Mr. Clifton looked inquiringly. 

44 Say on, Tom.” 

44 1 have seen him twice with Captain St. CJare. Once 
he was talking to him at the door of the pool-room, and 
once they were walking arm in arm. They are apparently 
upon intimate terms.” 

At this moment a loud, bustering, angry voice was heard 
calling from the stairs, and Tom leaped up as if he had 
been shot. His door — not the one leading to the room of 
Miss Clifton’s— opened upon the corridor, and the voice 
sounded close, just as'if its owner were coming in with a 
bound: It was the voice of Judge Osborne. 

44 Clifton, where are you? Here’s a pretty thing hap- 
pened. Come down.” 

Mr. Clifton for once in his life lost his calm equanimity, 
and sprung to the door, to keep it against invasion, as eag- 
erly as Tom could have done. He forgot that Sally had 
said the door was safely locked and the key mislaid. As 
to Tom, he rushed on his hat and black whiskers, and hesi- 
tated between under the bed or the wardrobe. 

44 Don’t agitate yourself, Tom,” whispered Mr. Clifton. 
44 There is no real danger. I will go and keep him 
safely.” 

But when Mr. Clifton got through his sister’s bedroom 
he found that lady had taken the initiative, and was lean- 
ing over the balustrades, having been arrested in the proc- 
ess of dressing. Her clothes were on, but her night-cap 
was not off. Little cared she, however, who saw her night- 
cap. 


MR. CLIFTOK OF hARItiNGl'OFf. &)D- 

4 4 What on earth brings you up in this weather?” began 
she, in a tone of exasperation. 

“ I want to see Clifton. Nice news I have had.” 

“ What about? Anything concerning Mary?” 

44 Mary be bothered!” replied the judge, who was cer- 
tainly, from some cause, in a furious temper. “ It concerns 
that precious rascal whom I am forced to call son. I am 
told he is here. ” 

Down the stairs leaped Mr. Clifton four at a time, 
wound his arm within the judge's, and led him into the 
sitting-room. 

4 4 Good-morning, judge. You have courage to venture 
up through the snow! What is the matter? You seem 
excited.” 

44 Excited!” raved the judge, dancing about the room 
first on one leg then on the other, like a cat upon hot 
bricks; 44 so would you be excited if your life were worried 
out as mine is over a wicked scamp of a son. Why can't 
folks trouble their heads about their own business, and let 
my affairs alone? A pity but what he was hanged, and 
the thing done with!” 

44 But what has happened?” questioned Mr. Clifton. 

44 Why, this has happened!” retorted the judge, throw- 
ing a letter on the table. 

Mr. Cliftcn took up the note and read it. It purported 
to be from 44 a friend ” to Judge Osborne, informing that 
gentleman that his 44 criminal son ” was likely to have ar- 
rived at Barrington or would arrive in the course of a day 
or so, and it recommended* the judge to speed his departure 
from it lest he should be pounced upon. 

44 This letter is anonymous!” exclaimed Mr. Clifton. 

44 Of course it is,” stamped the judge. 44 And I took an 
oath I'd deliver him up to justice if I ever could.” 

44 You did not take an oath to go open-mouthed to the 
police-station, upon the receipt of any despicable anony- 
mous letter or any foolish report, and say, 4 1 have news 
that my son will be here to-day; look after him.' Non- 
sense, judge; let the police look out for themselves, but 
don't you set them on.” 

The judge growled, whether in assent or dissent did not 
appear, and Mr. Clifton resumed. 

‘ 4 Have you shown this letter to Mrs. Osborne, or men- 
tioned it to her?” 


206 


MR. CLlFTOtf OF BARRIKGTOK. 


“ Not I. I didn’t give myself time. I had gone down 
to the gate to see how deep the snow lay in the road when 
the letter-carrier came up; so I read it as I stood there. I 
went in for my coat and umbrella to come off to you, and 
Mrs. Osborne wanted to know where I was going to in such 
a hurry — but 1 did not tell her.” 

“lam truly glad to hear it,” said Mr. Clifton. “ Such 
information as this could not fail to have a dangerous effect 
upon Mrs. Osborne. Do not suffer a hint of it to escape 
you,' judge; consider how much anxiety she has already 
suffered.” 

“ It is partly her own fault. Why can’t she drive the 
ill-doing boy from her mind?” 

“ If she could,” said Mr. Clifton, “ she would be acting 
against human nature. There is one thing which you may 
possibly not have glanced at, judge. You speak of deliver- 
ing your son up to the law. Has it ever struck you that you 
would be delivering up at the same time your wife’s life?” 

“ Stuff!” said the judge. 

“ You would find it no stuff. So sure as Tom is brought 
to trial — whether through your means or through any 
other — so sure will it kill your wife.” 

The judge took up the letter which had lain open on the 
table, folded it, and put it in its envelope. 

“ 1 suppose you don’t know the writing, Mr. Clifton?” 

“ I never saw it before, that I remember. Are you re- 
turning home?” 

“ No. I shall go on to Woodbridge’s? Who can have 
written it?” repeated the judge. “ It bears the New York 
postmark, you see?” 

“ It is too wide a speculation to enter upon.” 

Judge Osborne departed. Mr. Clifton watched him 
down the avenue, and then went up to Tom. 

Miss Clifton was sitting with him. 

“ I thought I should have died,” spoke poor Tom. “ I 
declare, Mr. Clifton, my very blood seemed turned to 
water, and 1 thought 1 should have died with fright. Is 
he gone away all safe?” 

“ He is gone, and it is all safe.” 

“ And what did he want? What did he hear of me?” 

Mr. Clifton gave a brief explanation, and Tom immedi- 
ately set the letter down as the work of Til ford. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


207 


“ Will it be possible for me to see my mother this time?” 
he asked. 

4 4 1 think it would be highly injudicious to let your 
mother know that you are here, or have been here,” was 
Mr. Clifton’s answer. 44 She would naturally be inquiring 
into particulars, and when she came to hear that you were 
pursued, she would never have another minute’s peace. 
You must forego the pleasure this time of seeing her, 
Tom.” 

44 And Lulu?” 

44 Lulu might come and stay the day with you, only—” 

44 Only what?” said Tom, for Mr. Clifton hesitated. 

44 1 was thinking what a morning it is for her to come 
out in.” 

44 She would go through an avalanche— she’d wade 
through mountains of snow to see me,” said Tom, eagerly, 
44 and be delighted to do it.” 

44 She always was a little fool,” put in Fannie. 

44 1 know she would,” observed Mr. Clifton, in answer 
to Tom. 44 We will try and get her here.” 

44 She can arrange about the money I am to have just 
as well as my mother, could she not?” 

44 Yes. For Lulu is in receipt of money of her own now, 
and I know she would wish for nothing better than to ap- 
ply some of it to you. Fannie, as an excuse for getting 
her here, 1 must say to Mrs. Osborne that you are ill, and 
wish Lulu to come for the day and bear you company. 
Shall 1?” 

“ Say I am dead, if you like,” responded Fannie, who 
was in one of her cross moods. 

Mr. Clifton ordered his sleigh, and drove off with John. 
He drew in at The Elms. Lulu and her mother were to- 
gether, and looked surprised at the early visit. 

44 Did you want the judge, Harold? He is out. He 
went while the breakfast was on the table, apparently in a 
desperate hurry.” 

44 1 don’t want the judge. 1 want Lulu. I have come 
to carry her off. ” 

44 To carry off Lulu!” 

44 Fannie is not well; she has caught a violent cold and 
wishes Lulu to spend the day with her.” 

44 Oh, Harold, I can not leave mamma to-day. She is 
not well herself, and she will be so lonely without me.” 


208 MR. CLIFTON" OF BAfeRlXGTOff. 

44 Neither can I spare her, Harold. It is not a day for 
her to go out. 55 

How could he get to say a word to Lulu alone? While 
he deliberated, talking on all the while to Mrs. Osborne, a 
servant came to the door. Mrs. Osborne arose from her 
seat to hold a conference at the door with her maid, and 
Mr. Clifton seized his opportunity. 

4 4 Lulu/ 5 he whispered, 44 make no opposition. You 
must come. What I really want you for is connected with 
Tom. 55 

She looked up at him, a startled glance, and the crimson 
flew to her face. Mrs. Osborne returned to her seat. 

44 Oh, such a day! 55 she shivered. 44 1 am sure Fannie 
can not expect Lulu. 55 

44 But Fannie does. And there is my sleigh, waiting to 
take her before 1 go to the office. Not a flake of snow can 
come near her, Mrs. Osborne. The large, warm apron will 
be up and an umbrella will shield her face. Get your 
things on. Lulu. 55 

44 Mamma, if you would not very much mind being left, 
I should like to go, 55 said Lulu. 

44 But you will be sure to take cold, child. 55 

44 Oh, dear, no! 1 can wrap up well. 55 

44 And 1 will see that she comes home all right this even- 
ing, 55 added Mr. Clifton. 

In a few minutes they were seated in the sleigh. Lulu 5 s 
tongue was burning to ask questions, but John sat behind 
them, and would have overheard. When they arrived at 
the estate, Mr. Clifton gave her his arm up the steps, and 
took her into the breakfast-room. 

44 Will you prepare yourself for a surprise. Lulu? 55 

Suspense, fear, had turned her very pale. 

44 Something has happened to Tom! 55 she gasped. 

44 Nothing that need agitate you. He is here! 55 

44 Here? Where? 55 

44 Here — upstairs. He slept here last night. 55 

44 0h, Harold! 55 

44 Only fancy, Lulu! 1 opened the window at nine last 
night to look at the weather, and in burst Tom. We could 
not let him go out again in the snow, so he slept here, in 
that room next to Fannie’s. 55 

44 Hoes she know of it? 55 

“Of course. And Sally also; we were obliged to tell 


MR. CLIFTON" OF BARRINGTON". 209 

Sally. Imagine Tom's fear! Your father came this morn- 
ing, calling up the stairs after me, saying he heard Tom 
was here. He meant at Barrington. I thought Tom would 
have gone out of his mind with fright." 

A few more explanations, and Mr. Clifton took Lulu to 
Tom's room. Miss Clifton and her knitting still keeping 
Tom company. In fact, that was to be the general sitting- 
room of the day, and a hot lunch, Tom's dinner, would be 
served in Miss Clifton's room at one o'clock. Sally was 
only admitted to wait on them. 

4 4 And now I must go," said Mr. Clifton, after chatting 
a few minutes. 44 The office is waiting for me, and my 
poor ponies are in the snow." 

44 But you'll be sure to be home early, Mr. Clifton?" 
said Tom. 44 1 dare not stop here; I must be off not a 
moment later than six or seven." 

44 1 will be here, Tom." 

The day ended, and evening came, and the time for 
Tom's departure. It was again snowing heavily, though 
it had ceased in the middle of the day. Money for the 
present had been given to him, and arrangements had been 
discussed. Mr. Clifton insisted upon Tom's sending him 
his address as soon as he should own one to send, and Tom 
faithfully promised. He was in very low spirits, almost as 
bad as Lulu, who could not conceal her tears; they 
dropped in silence on her pretty silk dress. A large cloak of 
Miss Clifton's enveloping him, he was smuggled down the 
stairs into the room he had entered during the storm on 
the previous night while Mr. Clifton held the window open. 

44 Good-bye, Lulu dear. If ever you should be able to 
tell my mother of this day, say that my chief sorrow was 
not to see her." 

44 Oh, Tom!" she sobbed, broken-hearted, “good-bye!" 

44 Farewell, Tom," said Miss Clifton. 44 Don't you be 
fool enough to get into any more scrapes." 

Last of all, he wrung the hand of Mr. Clifton. The 
latter went outside with him for an instant, and their leave- 
taking was alone. 

44 1 must be going home," said Lulu to Mr. Clifton. 
44 It is half past seven, and mamma will be uneasy." 

44 Whenever you like, Lulu." 

44 But can I not walk? I am sorry to take out your 
ponies again, and in this storm. ' ' 


210 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


Mr. Clifton laughed. 

“Which would feel the storm worst — you or the 
ponies?” 

Lulu got into the sleigh, and Mr. Clifton followed her. 

“ Are you coming, too?” 

“ I suppose 1 had better,” he smiled, “ to see that you 
and the ponies do not come to harm.” 

Lulu was crying silently. Very, very deeply did she 
mourn the unhappy situation, the privations of her broth- 
er. And she knew that he was one to feel them deeply. 
He could not battle with the world’s hardships so bravely 
as many could have done. Mr. Clifton only detected her 
emotion as they were nearing her home. He leaned for- 
ward, took her hand, and held it between his. 

“ Don’t grieve. Lulu. Bright days may be in store for 
Tom yet. You may go back,” he said to the servants, 
when he alighted. “I shall walk home.” 

“ Oh!” exclaimed Lulu, “ I do think you intend to send 
the evening with us. Mamma will be so glad!” 

Her voice showed that she was glad also. Mr. Clifton 
drew her hand within his arm as they walked up the path. 

But Lulu had reckoned without her'host. Mrs. Osborne 
had retired for the night; the judge had gone out, and 
she, feeling tired, had gone to rest. Lulu stole into her 
room, but found her asleep, so that it fell to Lulu to en- 
tertain Mr. Clifton. 

They stood together before the large pier-glass in front 
of the blazing fire. Lulu was thinking over the events of 
the day. What Mr. Clifton was thinking of was best 
known to himself; his eyes, with their drooping eyelids, 
were cast upon Lulu. There was a long silence. At 
length Lulu seemed to feel that his gaze was on her, and 
she looked up at him. 

“ Will you marry me. Lulu?” 

The words were spoken in the quietest, most matter-of- 
fact tone, just as if he said, “Shall I give you a chair. 
Lulu?” But, oh! the change that came over her counte- 
nance, the sudden light of joy, the scarlet flush of emo- 
tion and happiness! Then it all faded down to paleness 
and sadness. 

She shook her head in the negative. 

“ But you are very kind to ask me,” she added, in 
words. 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTON. 211 

“ What is the reason, Lulu?” 

Another rush of color, as before, and a deep silence. 

Mr. Clifton put his arm round her, and bent his face on 
a level with hers. 

“ Whisper it to me. Lulu. Is it because I once married 
another?” 

“ No, no; it is the remembrance of that night — you can 
not have forgotten it; and it is stamped on my brain in 
letters of fire. I never thought so to betray myself. But 
for what passed that night you would not have asked me 
now.” 

“ Lulu!” 

She glanced up at him, the “tone was so painful. 

“ Do you know that I love you? that there is none other 
in the world whom 1 would care to marry but you? Nay, 
Lulu, when happiness is within our reach, let us not throw 
it away.” 

She cried more softly, leaning upon his arm. 

“ Happiness? Would it be happiness for you?” 

“ Great and deep happiness,” he whispered. 

She read the truth in his countenance, and a sweet smile 
illuminated her sunny features. Mr. Clifton read its 
signs. 

“ You love me as much as ever. Lulu?” 

“ Bar more — far more!” was the murmured answer; and 
Mr. Clifton held her closer and drew her face to his. 

Lulu’s heart was at length at rest, and she had been con- 
tent to remain where she was forever. 

And Tom? Had he got clear off? Tom was stealing 
along the road, plunging into the snow by the hedge, be- 
cause it was more sheltered there than in the beaten path, 
when his umbrella came in contact with another umbrella. 
Miss Clifton had furnished it to him, not to protect his 
battered hat, but to protect his face from being seen by 
the passers-by. The umbrellas met, smash! right under- 
neath a gas-lamp. Aside went each umbrella, and the an- 
tagonists stared at each other. 

“ How dare you, fellow? Can’t you see where you are 
going to?” 

Tom thought he should have dropped. He would have 
given all the money his pockets held if the friendly earth 
had but opened and swallowed him in. Before him now, 
peering into his face, was his own father! 


212 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

Uttering an exclamation of dismay which broke from 
him involuntarily, Tom sped away with the swiftness of an 
arrow. Did Judge Osborne recognize the tones? 

It can not be said. He saw a rough, strange-looking 
man, with bushy-black whiskers, who was evidently scared 
at the sight of him. 

Nevertheless, he stood still and gazed in the direction 
until all sounds of Tom’s footsteps had died away in the 
distance. 

Miss Clifton’s cold was better the next evening; in fact, 
she seemed quite herself again, and Mr. Clifton introduced 
the subject of his marriage. # It was after dinner that he 
began upon it. 

“ Fannie, when I married Hazel Barrington, you re- 
proached me severely with having kept you in the dark.” 

“ If you had not kept me in the dark, but consulted me, 
as any other Christian would, the course of events might 
have been wholly changed, and the wretchedness and sor- 
row that fell on you been spared it,” fiercely interrupted 
Miss Clifton. 

“We will leave the unhappy past,” he said, “ and con- 
sider the future. I was about to remark that I do not in- 
tend to fall under your displeasure for the like offense. I 
believe you have never wholly forgiven it.” 

“ And never shall!” cried she, impetuously. “ I did not 
deserve the slight. ” 

“ Therefore, almost as soon as I know it myself, I ac- 
quaint you. I am about to marry a second time, Fannie. ” 

Miss Clifton started up. Her spectacles dropped off her 
nose and her knitting from her hand. 

“ What did you say?” she uttered, aghast. 

“ I am about to marry.” 

“ You?” 

“ I. Is there anything so very astonishing in it?” 

“ For the love of common sense, don’t go and make such 
a fool of yourself ! You have done it once. Was not that 
enough for you? But you must run your head into the 
noose again.” 

“Now, Fannie, can you wonder that 1 do not speak to 
you of such things, when you meet me in this way? You 
treat me just as you did when I was a child. It is very 
foolish.” 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 2 13 

“ I always thought you were mad when you married be- 
fore, but I shall think you doubly mad now.” 

“Let* it be who it will, Fannie, you will be sure to 
grumble. ” 

“ Well, can’t you say who it is?” snapped Fannie. 

“ It is Lulu Osborne.” 

“ Who?” shrieked Fannie. 

“You are not deaf, Fannie.” 

“ Well, you are an idiot!” she exclaimed, lifting up her 
hands and eyes. 

“ Thank you,” he said, calmly. 

“ And so you are, Harold. To suffer that girl, who has 
been angling after you so long, to catch you at last!” 

“ She has not angled after me. Had she done so, she 
would probably never have been Mrs. Clifton. ” 

“ She is a little conceited minx, as vain as she is high!” 

“ What else have you to urge against her?” 

“ I would have married a girl without a slur — if I must 
have married,” aggravatingly returned Fannie. 

“ Slur?” 

“ Slur, yes. Dear me! is it an honor to possess such a 
brother?” 

“ There is no slur upon Lulu. And the time may come 
when it will be taken off Tom.” 

Miss Clifton sniffed. 

“ Pigs may fly, but I never saw them try it.” 

“ The next consideration, Fannie, is about your resi- 
dence. You will go back, I presume, to your old home?” 

“ Go back to my own home!” she exclaimed. “ 1 shall 
do nothing of the kind. I shall stay at the Barrington 
estate. What is to hinder me?” 

Mr. Clifton shook his head. 

“ It can not be,” he said, in a low, decisive tone. 

“ Who says so?” she sharply asked. 

“I do. Have you forgotten that night when my lost, 
dead darling fled from this house? She was driven to it by 
your cruelty and my — 1 will not subject another to the 
chances. Two mistresses in one house do not answer — they 
never did, and they never will.” 

“ Why did you not give me so much of your sentiments 
when I first came to the Barrington estate?” she burst 
forth. “ I hate hypocrisy!” 

“ They were not my sentiments then; 1 possessed none, 


214 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

I was ignorant upon the subject, and could I have that 
time to live over with the experience I now have, I would 
do all in my power to make amends for what 1 was the 
means of bringing on my poor, broken-hearted dead 
Hazel.” 

“ You will not find a better mistress of a house than I 
have made you/’ she said, resentfully. 

“ I do not look for it. The tenants leave your house in 
March, do they not?” 

“ Yes, they do,” snapped Miss Clifton. “ But as we are 
on the subject of details, of ways and means, allow me to 
tell you that if you did what was right, you would move 
into that house of mine, and I will go into a smaller, as 
you seem to think I should poison Lulu if 1 remained with 
her. The Barrington estate is a vast deal too fine and too 
grand for you.” 

“ 1 do not consider it so. I shall not leave the Barring- 
ton estate. ” 

At this moment the summons of a visitor was heard. 

The footman entered. 

“ It is Captain Tilford, sir. 1 have shown him into the 
drawing-room. 

Mr. Clifton was surprised. He proceeded to the draw- 
ing-room, and Miss Olift'on rang for Sally. 

Strange to say, she had no thoughts of rebelling against 
the decree. An innate consciousness had long been hers 
that, should Mr. Clifton marry again, her sojourn in his 
house would terminate. The Barrington estate was Mr. 
Clifton’s; she had learned that he could be firm upon occa- 
sions, and the tone of his voice had told that this was one 
of them. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

It was a lovely morning in J une, and all Barrington was 
astir. Barrington generally was astir in the morning, but 
not in the bustling manner that might be observed now. 
People were abroad in numbers, pressing down to St. 
Paul’s Church, for it was the day of Mr. Clifton’s mar- 
riage to Lulu Osborne. 

Miss Clifton made herself into a sort of martyr. She 
would not go near it; fine weddings in fine churches did 
pot suit her, she said; they could tie themselves up to- 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 215 

gether fast enough without her presence. She had invited 
the little Cliftons and their governesses and Sally to spend 
the day with her; and she persisted in regarding the chil- 
dren as martyrs, too, in being obliged to submit to the ad- 
vent of a second mother. She was back in her own house 
again, next door to the office, settled there for life now 
with her servants. 

St. Paul’s Church was crowded. All Barrington had 
flocked to see it. Those who could not get in took up 
their station in front as near as they could get. 

Eleven o’clock, and no signs of it. The mob outride 
grew impatient too; some of them had been there for two 
hours. Hark! a sound of carriages. Yes, it was coming 
— the wedding-party! 

Mr. Clifton was one of the first to enter the church, self- 
possessed and calm, noble-looking. But who comes in 
now, with an air as if the whole church belonged to him? 
An imposing, pompous man, stern and grim. It is Judge 
Osborne, and he leads in one whom some folks jump upon 
seats to get a look at. 

Very lovely was Lulu in her soft white silk robes and 
her floating veil. Her cheeks — now blushing rosy red, now 
pale as the veil that shaded them — betrayed how intense 
was her emotion. 

The bride-maids came after her with jaunty steps, vain 
of their important office. 

Mr. Clifton was already in his place at the altar, and as 
Lulu neared him he advanced took her hand, and placed 
her on his left, and the service proceeded. 

In spite of her emotion — and that it was great, scarcely 
to be repressed, none could doubt — Lulu made the re- 
sponses bravely. Be you very sure that a woman who loves 
him to whom she is being united must experience this emo- 
tion. 

“ Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to 
live together after God’s ordinance in the holy state of 
matrimony?” spoke the clergyman. “ Wilt thou obey 
him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep thee only unto 
him, as long as ye both shall live?” 

“ 1 will.” Clearly, firmly, impressively was the answer 
given. 

The ceremony was very soon over, and Lulu the magic 


216 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

ring upon her finger, and her arm within Mr. Clifton's, was 
led out to his carriage. 

The crowd shouted and hurrahed as they caught a sight 
of her lovely face, but the carriage was soon clear of the 
crowd. 

It was about a week after the wedding when one morn- 
ing a bundle of weekly newspapers were sent to the hospi- 
tal in which Hazel was yet prolonging her stay. She 
picked up one of the papers to read. It happened to be 
the weekly paper from Barrington, giving the full account 
of the magnificent wedding of Mr. Clifton, of the Barring- 
ton estate, to Miss Lulu Osborne. After the long details of 
the wedding and its guests, it gave a little account of Mr. 
Clifton's three beautiful children, and more especially of 
his eldest boy, a manly little fellow, but very delicate; he 
might live for a few years, but the chances were against 
him. As she finished reading, the paper fell from her 
hand. Had she read it in the paper, or was she in the 
delirium of brain fever? She sat until she could sit no 
longer; her very heart-strings were wrung. 

“ He, my husband, thinks me dead. 1 wonder how the 
tidings of my death were received at the Barrington es- 
tate?" 

And she might not rise up in defense of herself. 

“ He has soon forgotten me!" What she had heard only 
increased her vain, incessant longing. A step-mother at 
the Barrington estate, and one of her children gliding on 
to death! Oh, to be with them — to see them once again! 

To bed at the usual time, but not to sleep. Her frame 
was fevered, the bed was fevered, and she arose and paced 
the room. Her temples were throbbing, her heart was 
beating; and she once more threw herself upon the bed and 
pressed the pillows down upon her forehead. There is no 
doubt that the news of Mr. Clifton's marriage helped 
greatly the excitement. She did not pray to die, but she 
did wish that death might come to her. 

What would have been the ending, it is impossible to say, 
but a strange turn in affairs came — one of those wonderful 
coincidences which are sometimes, but not often, to be met 
with. Hazel was known in the hospital as Mine. Septier. 
The head sister appeared in Mme. Septier's room after 
breakfast. The object of her visit was this: she felt that 
madame could do better than she was doing, assisting the 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 217 

nurses in the hospital, and would madame accept a nice 
position as governess? She could introduce her to a nice 
family. 

“Ah! my dear madame,” she exclaimed, “ you would 
be fortunate indeed if you were to get into this family. 
They are the nicest people; he so liked and respected, she 
so pretty and engaging. A most desirable position. You 
will be treated as a lady, and have all things comfortable. 
There is only one pupil, a girl; one of the little boys studies 
for one hour each day, but that is not much, and the salary 
is a very generous one. The Oliftons are friends of mine; 
they live at a very beautiful place — the Barrington estate.” 

“ The Cliftons! The Barrington estate! Go governess 
there!” 

HazePs breath was taken away. 

“ I think,” continued the sister, “ you would be just the 
one to suit, and I have no doubt 1 could get the position 
for you. What do you say?” 

What could she say? Her brain was in a whirl. 

“Iam anxious to'ffind you one if 1 can,” said the sister. 
“ I have been very much pleased with you, and I should 
like to see you desirably placed. Shall I write to Mrs. 
Clifton?” 

Hazel roused herself, and so far cleared her intellect as 
to understand and answer the question. 

“ Perhaps you will -kindly give me until to-morrow morn- 
• ing to consider it?” 

She had a battle with herself that day, now resolving to 
go and risk it, now shrinking from the attempt. At one 
moment it seemed to her that Providence must have placed 
this opportunity in her way that she might see her children 
in her desperate longing; at another, how could she bear 
to see Mr. Clifton the husband of another — to. live in the 
same house with them, to witness his attentions, his ca- 
resses? 

It might be difficult; but to see her children, her own 
feelings, let them be wrung as they would, should not 
prove an obstacle. 

Evening came, and she had not decided. She passed 
another night of pain, of restlessness, of longing for her 
children. This intense longing appeared to be overmaster- 
ing all her powers of mind and body. The temptation at 
length proved too strong; the project, having been placed 


218 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

before her covetous eyes, could not be relinquished, and she 
finally resolved to go. 

Sister Agatha wrote to Mrs. Clifton. She had met with 
a governess, one desirable in every way, who could not fail 
to suit her views precisely. 

“ You must not mind her appearance,” went on the 
latter. “ She is an odd-looking person, and though she 
can’t be more than thirty, her hair is gray. But she is a 
lady, and with it all, Madame Septier looks one.” 

When this description reached the Barrington estate. 
Lulu laughed as she read' it aloud to Mr. Clifton. He 
laughed also. 

“It is well that governesses are not chosen according to 
their looks,” he said, “or 1 fear Madame Septier would 
stand but a poor chance.” 

They resolved to engage her, and word was sent back to 
that effect. 

A strangely wild tumult filled Hazel. She first of all 
hunted her desk for everything belonging to her, lest any 
scrap of paper, any mark on linen might be there which 
could give a clew to her former self. She next saw to her 
wardrobe, making it still more unlike anything she had 
formerly worn. She purchased some caps; they were sim- 
ple, and fitted closely to her face. She had been learning 
for two years to change the character of her handwriting, 
and had so far succeeded that none would now take it for 
Hazel’s. But her hand shook when she wrote to Mrs. Clif- 
ton, who had written to her. She — she writing to Mr. 
Clifton’s wife; she who had forfeited all — husband, chil- 
dren, home, all — all to another, in her mad jealousy! And 
now writing to his wife in the capacity of a subordinate! 
How would she like to live with her as a subordinate — a 
servant, it may be said. Hot tears came into her eyes with 
a gush as they fell on the signature, “ Lulu Clifton.” 

All ready, she sat down and waited the signal of depart- 
ure. The day came at last. 

It was a foggy afternoon, gray with the coming night, 
when she arrived at Barrington. Once more she was whirl- 
ing along the familiar road. She saw J udge Osborne’s 
house; she saw other marks which she knew well, and 
once more she saw her old home, the dear old house, for 
the carriage had turned into the avenue. The carriage stop- 
ped at the steps, and her sight momentarily left her. Would 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


219 


Mr. Clifton come to the carriage to help her out? The 
hall door was opened, and there gushed forth a blaze of 
light. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

Two men-servants stood in the flood of light from the 
open door. One advanced to assist Hazel to alight, and 
then busied himself with her baggage. As she ascended to 
the hall she recognized John. Stauge, indeed, did it seem 
not to say, “ How are you, John?” but to meet him as a 
stranger. For a moment she was at a loss for words What 
should she say, or ask, coming to her own home? Her 
manner was embarrassed, her voice low. 

“ Is Mrs. Clifton within?” 

“ Yes, ma’am/’ 

At that moment Sally came forward to meet her. 

“ It is Madame Septier, I believe?” she respectfully said. 
“ Please to step this way, madame.” 

But Hazel lingered in the hall, ostensibly to see that her 
things came in right — in reality, to gain a short respite, 
for Sally might be about to usher her into the presence of 
Mr. and Mrs. Clifton. 

Sally, however, did nothing of the kind, she merely con- 
ducted her to the gray parlor; a fire was burning in the 
grate, looking cheerful on the autumn night. 

“ This is your sitting-room, madame. What would you 
like. I will order it while I show you your sleeping-room.” 

“ A cup of tea and some toast,” answered Hazel. 

Sally rang the bell, ordered the refreshments to be made 
ready and sent to the gray parlor, and then preceded Hazel 
upstairs. On she followed, her heart palpitating; passed 
the rooms that used to be hers, along the corridor, toward 
the second staircase. The doors of her old bed and dress- 
ing-rooms stood open, and she glanced in with a yearning 
look. No, nevermore, nevermore could they be hers; 
she had put them from her by her own free act and deed. 
Not less comfortable did they look now than in former 
days; but they had passed into another’s occupancy. The 
fire in the grate blazed on the furniture; on the sofa lay 
a shawl and a book, and on the bed a silk dress, as if thrown 
there after being taken off. No, these rooms were not for 
her now, and she followed Sally up the other staircase. 


220 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


The bedroom to \tfhich she was shown was commodious and 
well furnished. It was the one Miss Clifton had occupied 
when she,, Hazel, had been taken as a bride to the Barring- 
ton estate, though that lady had subsequently quitted it 
for one on the lower floor. 

“ Would you like a fire lighted here, madame, for to- 
night? Perhaps it will feel welcome, after traveling.” 

“ Oh, no, thank you,” was the answer. 

“ Can I do anything for you, madame?” she asked. 
“ Should you want any one, please to ring, and Martha will 
come up,” said Sally, preparing to retire. “ She is the 
maid who waits upon the gray parlor, and will do anything 
you like up here.” With this Sally quitted the room. 

Hazel slowly took off her things. There was little fear of 
detection, so effectually was she disguised. It was with the 
utmost difficulty she kept tranquil; had the tears once 
burst forth they would have gone on to hysterics, without 
the possibility of control. The coming home again to the 
Barrington estate! Oh, it was a time of terrible painful 
agitation. 

There was no -excuse for lingering longer, and she de- 
scended. Everything was ready in the gray parlor for her 
lonely tea. She sat down with what appetite she might have, 
her brain, her thoughts, all in a chaos together. She won- 
dered whether Mr. and Mrs. Clifton were at dinner; she 
wondered in what part of the house were the children; she 
heard bells ringing now and then; she heard servants cross 
and recross the hall. Her tea over, she rang her own. 

A neat- looking, good-tempered maid answered it — 
Martha, who, as Sally had informed her, was at the gover- 
ness’s especial command. She took away the tea-things, 
and then Hazel sat alone — for how long she scarcely knew 
— when a sound caused her heart to beat as if it would 
burst its bounds, and she started from her chair as one 
who had received an electric shock. It was nothing to be 
startled at— for ordinary people, it was but the sound of 
children’s voices. Her children! Were they being brought 
in to her? She pressed her hand upon her heart. No; 
they were L but walking through the hall, and the voices 
died away up the wide stairs. She looked at her new watch 
— half past seven. Her new watch. The old one had been 
changed for it. John entered. 

“ My mistress says, ma’am, she would be glad to see 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 221 

yon, if you are not too tired. Will you please to walk into 
the drawing-room?” 

A mist swam before her eyes. Was the about to enter 
the presence of Mr. Clifton? Had the moment really come? 
She moved to the door which John held op6n. She turned 
her head from the man, for she could feel how ashy white 
were her face and lips. 

“ Is Mrs. Clifton alone?” she asked, in a subdued tone. 
The most indirect way she could put the question as to 
whether Mr. Clifton was there. 

“ Quite alone, madame. Mr. Clifton is dining out to- 
day.” 

“Madame Septier,” said John to his mistress, as he 
ushered in Hazel. 

The old familiar drawing-room; its large, handsome pro- 
portions, its well-arranged furniture, its bright chandelier! 
It all came back to her with a heart-sickness. 

Seated under the blaze of the chandelier was Lulu. Not 
a day older did she look than when Hazel had first seen her 
at the church, when she had inquired of her husband who 
was that pretty girl. 4 4 Lulu Osborne,” he had answered. 
Ay! She was Lulu Osborne then, but now she was Lulu 
Clifton. 

Inexpressibly more beautiful looked Lulu than Hazel had 
ever seen her, or else she fancied it. Her evening dress 
was of pale blue — no other color suited Lulu so well, and 
there was no other she was so fond of — and on her fair 
neck was a gold chain and on her arms were gold brace- 
lets. Her pretty features were as attractive as ever, her 
cheeks were flushed, her blue eyes sparkled, and her light 
hair was rich and abundant. A contrast, her hair to that 
of the worn woman opposite her. 

Lulu came forward, her hand stretched out with a kindly 
greeting. 

44 1 hope you are not very much tired after your 
journey?” 

Hazel murmured something, she did not know what, and 
pushed the chair set for her as much as possible in the, 
shade. 

44 You are not ill, are you?” asked Lulu, noticing the 
intensely pale face — as much as could be seen of it for cap 
and spectacles. 

44 Not ill,” was the low answer, 44 only a little fatigued. ” 


222 ME. CLlFTOM OF BARRlNGTOtf. 

“ Would you prefer that 1 should speak to you in the 
morning? You would like, possibly, to retire at once.” 

But this Haze? declined. Better get the first interview 
over by gas-light than by daylight. 

“ You look so very pale, I feared you might be ill.” 

“ I am generally pale; sometimes remarkably so; but my 
health is good.” 

“ Sister Agatha wrote us word that you would be quite 
sure to suit us,” freely spoke Lulu. “ 1 hope you will, 
and I hope you may find your residence here agreeable. 
You are no doubt aware that the children you are to teach 
are not mine; they are Mr. Clifton’s by his first wife.” 

“ Are the children much with you?” inquired Hazel. 

“ No; I never was fond of being troubled with children. 
When 1 first came to the Barrington estate I found the 
governess who was here then was doing everything neces- 
sary for Mr. Clifton’s children. You will have the entire 
charge of the little girl; she will be your companion out 
of school hours. Do you understand that?” 

“Iam quite willing and ready to undertake it,” said 
Hazel, her heart fluttering. “ Are the children well? Do 
they enjoy good health?” 

“ Quite so. They had the measles in the spring, and the 
illness left a cough upon Frank, the eldest boy. Our doc- 
tor says he will outgrow it.” 

“ Has he it still, then?” 

At night and morning. They went last week to spend 
the day with their aunt Fannie, and were a little late in 
returning home. It was foggy, and the boy coughed dread- 
fully after he came in. Mr. Clifton was so conceraned 
that he left the dinner-table and went up to the nursery; 
he gave Sally strict orders that the child should never again 
be out in the evening air, so long as the cough was upon 
him like that.” 

A bitter groan nearly escaped Hazel’s lips. Just then the 
sound of carriage wheels was heard, and in a moment Hazel 
found herself ouce more in the presence of her husband. 

He did not perceive that any one was present, and he 
bent his head and fondly kissed his wife. Hazel’s jealous 
eyes were turned upon them. She saw Lulu’s passionate, 
lingering kiss in return. She heard her fervent whispered 
greeting, “My darling!” and she watched him turn to 
press the same fond kisses on the rosy, open lips of his 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 223 

child. Hazel flung her hands over her face. Had she 
bargained for this? It was part of her cross. 

Mr. Clifton came forward and saw her. He looked some- 
what surprised. 

“ Madame Septier,” said Lulu; and he held out his hand 
and welcomed her in the same cordial, pleasant manner 
that his wife had done. She put her shaking hand in his. 
There was no help for it. Little thought he that that hand 
had been tenderly clasped in his a thousand times, and that 
it was the one he had loved so dearly. She sat down on 
her chair again, unable to stand, feeling as though every 
drop of blood within her had left her body; it had certain- 
ly left her face. 

“ You are at home soon, Harold,” Lulu exclaimed. *“ I 
did not expect you so early.” 

“ I excused myself just to get home to you, my dear. 
Young gentleman, I should like to know what brings you 
up, and here, at this hour?” 

“ You may well ask,” said Lulu. “ 1 had him brought 
down as you were not here, thinking he would be asleep 
very soon. And only look at him! no more sleep in his 
eyes than in mine!” 

She would have pressed him to her as she spoke, but the 
youngster stoutly repudiated it. He set a half cry, and 
struggled his arms and head free again, crowing the next 
moment most impudently. Mr. Clifton took him. 

“ It is no use. Lulu; he is beyond your coaxing this even- 
ing;” and he tossed the child in his strong arms, held him 
up to the chandelier, made him bob at the baby in the pier- 
glass, until the rebel was in an ecstasy of delight. Finally 
he smothered his face with kisses as Lulu had done. Lulu 
rang the bell. 

Oh! can you imagine what it was for. Hazel? So had 
he tossed, so had he kissed her children, she standing by, 
the fond, proud, happy mother, as Lulu was standing now. 
Mr. Clifton came up to her. 

“ Are you fond of these little troubles, Madame Septier? 
This one is a fine fellow, they say.” 

“ Very fine. What is his name?” she replied, by way of 
saying something. 

“Albert.” 

“ Albert Harold,” put in Lulu to Madame Septier. “ I 
was vexed that his name could not be entirely Harold, but 


224 


MR. CLIFTOtf OP RARR1NGTOK. 


that was already monopolized. Is it you, Cora? 1 don’t 
know what you’ll do with him, but he looks as if he would 
not be asleep by twelve o’clock.” 

Cora satisfied her curiosity by taking another prolonged 
stare at Madame Septier, received the baby from Mr. Clif- 
ton, and departed with him. 

Madame Septier arose. Would they excuse her? she 
asked in a low tone; she was tired and would be glad to re- 
tire to rest. 

44 Is she not funny looking?” said Lulu, when she was 
alone with Mr. Clifton. 44 I can’t think why she wears 
those blue glasses; it can not be for her sight, and they are 
very disfiguring.” 

44 She puts me in mind of — of — ” began Mr. Clifton, in 
a dreamy tone. 

“ Of whom?” 

44 Her face, I mean,” he said, still dreaming. 

“ So little can be seen of it,” returned Mrs. Clifton. 
“ Of whom does she put you in mind?” 

“I don’t know. Nobody in particular,” returned he, 
rousing himself. “ Let us have some music. Lulu. ” 


CHAPTR XXXI. 

The next morning she dressed with care, and descended 
to the gray parlor. The two elder children and the break- 
fast were waiting. Sally left the room when she entered it. 

A graceful girl of eight years old, a fragile boy a year 
younger, both bearing her own once lovely features, her 
cnce bright and delicate complexion, her large, soft, brown 
eyes. How utterly her heart yearned to them, but there 
must be no scene. Nevertheless, she stooped and kissed 
them both; one kiss each of impassioned fervor. Ethel 
was naturally silent. Frank was talkative. 

44 You are our new governess?” said he. 

44 Yes; we must be good friends.” 

44 Do you always take bread and milk for breakfast?” 
she inquired, perceiving that to be what they were eating. 

44 We get tired of it sometimes, and then we have milk 
and water, and bread and butter or honey. It’s Aunt 
Fannie who thinks we should eat bread and milk for break- 
fast; she says papa never had anything else when he was a 


MR. CLIFTON OF FARRINGTON". 225 

Ethel looked up. 

“ Papa would give me an egg when I breakfasted with 
him,” she cried, “ and Aunt Fannie said it was not good 
for me; but papa gave it me, all the same. I always had 
breakfast with him.” 

“ And why do you not now?” asked Hazel. 

“ I don’t know. I have not since mamma come. 1 
wish our own mamma was here,” pursued Ethel. 

“ Do you love this one as you did the other?” breathed 
Hazel. 

“Oh, I loved mamma! 1 loved mamma!” uttered 
Ethel, clasping her hands. 

“ Do you love your new mamma?” almost passionately 
asked Hazel. 

Ethel shook her head. 

“ Not as I love mamma. Poor mamma is dead, and 
papa said we should never see her again. And he cried, oh! 
so hard when he told us.” 

Sally entered to show the way to the school-room, and 
they followed her upstairs. As Hazel stood at the window, 
she saw Mr. Clifton depart on his way to the office. Lulu 
was with him, hanging fondly on his arm, about to accom- 
pany him to the park gates. So had she fondly hung, so 
had she accompanied him in the dayfe gone by. 

Through the day Frank's coughing would send pang 
after pang through Hazel's heart. Her boy, her darling 
boy, to suffer and she not daring to give him a mother's 
care and loving sympathy. 

Evening came at last — an evening to herself in the gray 
parlor — a terrible evening; one made up of grief, and 
bitter sorrow, and rebellion at existing things. Between 
nine and ten she dragged herself upstairs, purposing to 
retire to rest. 

As she was about to enter her room one of the maids 
who assisted in the nursery was passing, and a sudden 
thought occurred to Hazel. 

“ In which room does Master Clifton sleep?” she asked. 
“ Is it on this floor?” 

The girl pointed to a door near. 

“ In there, ma'am.” 

Hazel watched her down-stairs, and then entered the 
room softly. A little white bed, and Frank's beautiful 
face lying on it. His cheeks were flushed, his hands were 


226 MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 

thrown out, as if with iuward fever; but he was sleeping 
quietly. By the bedside stood a saucer, with some currant 
jelly in it, and a tea-spoon; there was also a glass of water. 
She glided down upon her knees and let her face rest on the 
bolster beside him, her breath in contact with his. Her 
eyes were wet; but that she might wake him, she would 
have taken the sleeper on to her bosom, and caressed him 
there. Death for him? She could hardly believe it. 

“ Oh, my! {Seeing alight here, if 1 didn't think the room 
was on fire. It did frighten me." 

It was Cora, who had seen the light in passing the door. 
Hazel sprung up as though she had been shot. She feared 
the detection of Cora and Sally more than she feared that 
of Mrs. Clifton. 

“Iam looking at Master Frank," she said, as calmly as 
she could speak. “ Mr. Clifton appears somewhat uneasy 
respecting his cough. He has a flushed, delicate look." 

“ It is nothing," returned Cora. “ It's just the look 
that his mother had. The first time 1 saw her nothing 
would convince me but what she had got paint on." 

“ Good-night," was all the reply made by HazeL as she 
retreated to her own room. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

“ Would you be so good, sir, as to come and look at 
Frank?" asked Mme. Septier, in alow tone of Mr. Clifton. 

“ Certainly." 

“ What for?" said Lulu. 

“ He looks so very ill. I fear he is worse than we 
thought." 

They went to the gray parlor, all three of them. Mr. 
Clifton was there first, and had taken a long silent look at 
Frank before the others entered. 

“ What is he doing on the floor?" exclaimed Lulu, in 
her astonishment. “ He should not lie on the floor, 
Madame Septier." 

“ He lies down there at this hour, and I can not get him 
up again. I try to persuade him to go on the sofa, but it 
is no use." 

Frank opened his eyes. 

“ Who's that? Papa?" 

“ Don't you feel well, Frank?" 


ME. CLIFTON OF FARRINGTON. 22 H 

“ Oh, yes, I am very well; but I am tired,” 

44 Why do you lie down here?” 

“ Hike lying here. Papa, that pretty white rabbit of 
mine is dead.” 

“ Indeed. Suppose you get up and tell me all about it. ” 

44 1 don’t know about it myself yet,” said Frank, slowly 
rising. “ Phil told Ethel when she was out just now; I 
did not go, 1 was tired.” 

“ What has tired you?” interrupted Mr. Clifton, taking 
the boy’s hand. 

44 Oh, nothing. I am always tired.” 

44 Do you tell the doctor that you are tired?” 

“ No. Why should I tell him? I wish he would not 
order me to take that nasty medicine.” 

44 But it is to make you strong, my boy.” 

44 It makes me sick. I always feel sick after it, papa. 
Madame Septier says 1 ought to have cream. That would 
be nice.” 

44 Cream?” repeated Mr. Clifton, turning to madame. 

44 1 have known cream to do a vast deal of good in a case 
like Frank’s,” she observed. 44 1 believe that no better 
medicine can be given; that it has, in fact, no substitute.” 

44 It can be tried,” said Mr. Clifton. 44 1 shall call in 
further advice for him, madame. Pray give your orders for 
anything you think may be beneficial to him,” ddded Mr. 
Clifton as he and his wife were leaving the gray parlor. 

Miss Clifton was standing at her own window the next 
day, when she caught sight of a string of judges and other 
notable people who came out of the office of Mr. Clifton. 
So many of them were they, that Miss Clifton involuntarily 
thought of a conjurer flinging flowers out of a hat; the 
faster they came, the more it seemed they are to come. 

44 What on earth’s up?” cried she, pressing her nose flat 
against the pane that she might see the better. 

They filed off, some one way, some another. Miss Clif- 
ton’s curiosity was keener than her appetite, for she re- 
mained at the window, although just informed that her 
dinner was served. Presently Mr. Clifton appeared, and 
she knocked on the window with her knuckles. He did 
not hear it; he had turned off at a quick pace toward his 
home. 

The clerks came out next, one after another, and the last 


228 MR. CLlFTOJST OF BARRiNGTOK. 

was Mr. Faber. He was less harried than Mr. Clifton had 
been, and heard Fannie's signal. 

“ What in the name of wonder did all those people want 
at the office?" began she, when Mr. Faber had entered, in 
obedience to it. 

“ That was the deputation. Miss Clifton. The deputa- 
tion to Mr. Clifton. They want him for their new mayor. " 

“ Mayor of what?" cried she, not guessing at the actual 
meaning. 

“ Why, Barrington is going to have a mayor, and they 
have nominated Mr. Clifton, of 4 which I am very glad." 

Two or three days more, and the address of Mr. Clifton 
to the inhabitants of Barrington appeared in the local 
papers, while the walls and posts, convenient were embel- 
lished with various colored placards: “Vote for Clifton! 
Clifton forever!" 

In all this time what had become of Captain Redmond 
St. Clare. While he was recovering from the few bruises 
he had received in the railroad accident, his uncle died, 
leaving him a vast sum of money which he had by this time 
squandered, and it was the next day after the Clifton post- 
ers were out, to the surprise and wonder of all, other post- 
ers went up, naming Redmond St. Clare as opposing 
candidate for mayor. 

Barrington was in a state of excitement that had not 
been its lot for many a year. Excitement and indignation 
had taken possession of Barrington. How the people ral- 
lied around Mr. Clifton! Town and surrounding country 
were alike up in arms. But government business was rite 
at Barrington, and, whatever the private and public feeling 
might be, collectively or individually, many votes would be 
cast for St. Clare. 

“ Harold, I do fear I have done a foolish thing." 

He laughed. 

“ 1 fear we all do that at times. Lulu. What is it?" 

He had seated himself in one of Lulu's favorite low chairs, 
and she stood before him, leaning on his shoulder, her face 
a little behind, so that he could not see it. In her delicacy 
she would not look at him while she spoke what she was 
going to speak. 

“ It is something that 1 have had on my mind for years, 
and I did not like to tell it to you." 

“ For years?" 


MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON'. 229 

“ You remember the night, years ago, when Tom was 
at the grove of trees in disguise? He — ” 

“ Which night, Lulu? He came more than once.” 

“ The night— the night that Hazel quitted this house,” 
she answered. “ Tom came back after his departure, say- 
ing that he had met Tilford in the side road. He described 
the peculiar motion of his hand as he threw back his hair 
from his brow; he spoke of the white hand and the diamond 
ring, how it glittered in the moonlight. Ho you remem- 
ber?” 

“Ido.” 

“ The motion appeared perfectly familiar to me, fori 
had seen it repeatedly seud by one staying at Barrington. 
I wondered you did not recognize it. From that night 1 
had little doubt as to the identity of Tilford. I believed 
that he and Captain St. Clare were one.” 

A pause. 

“ Why did you not tell me so. Lulu?” 

“ I can hardly tell you why! But to-day, as I was pass- 
ing the opposite party’s headquarters, in the carriage, go- 
ing very slowly on account of the crowd, he was perched out 
there addressing the people, and I saw the very same action, 
the old action that I remember so well.” 

Lulu paused. Mr. Clifton did not interrupt her. 

“ 1 feel a conviction that they are the same; that Tom 
must have been under some unaccountable mistake in say- 
ing he knew Bedmond St. Clare. I feel so sure that St. 
Clare and Tilford are one.” 

“ I know they are,” he quietly said. 

Lulu, in her astonishment, drew back and stared- at him 
in the face — a face of severe dignity. 

“ Oh, Harold! did you know it all that time?” 

“ 1 did not know it until this afternoon. 1 never 
suspected it.” 

“ I wonder you did not. I have wondered often.” 

“ s 0 d 0 I — now. Faber, Stafford, and Gurdy Hood— 
who came home to-day— were standing before the speak- 
ers’ stand, listening to his speech, when Hood recognized 
him— not as St. Clare— he was infinitely astonished to find 
he was St. Clare. St. Clare, they say, was scared at the 
recognition, and changed color. Hood would give no ex- 
planation, and moved away, but Stafford told Faber that 


230 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


St. Clare was the man Tilford who used to be after Kate 
Truesdell.” 

“ How did he know?” breathlessly asked Lulu. 

“ Because Mr. Stafford was after Kate himself, and re- 
peatedly saw Tilford in the woods. Lulu, I believe now 
that it was St. Clare who killed Truesdell, but I should like 
to know what Hood had to do with it.” 

Lulu clasped her hands. 

“ How strange it is!” she exclaimed, in some excite- 
ment. “Mamma told me yesterday that she was con- 
vinced some discovery was impending relative to the mur- 
der. She had one of her dreams. She was very ill from 
it. ” 

“ Gne would think you did also. Lulu, by your vehe- 
mence. ” 

“ No, no; you know better. But it is strange — you 
must acknowledge that it is — that, sure as anything fresh 
happens touching the subject of murder, so sure is a 
troubled dream the forerunner of it. Hood denied to you 
that he knew Tilford.” 

“ I know he did. ” 

“ And now it turns out that he does know him, and he 
is always in mamma’s dreams — none more prominent in 
them than Hood. But, Harold, I am not telling you what 
I did. I have sent for Tom.” 

“ You have?” 

“1 felt sure that St. Clare, was Tilford; I did not sus- 
pect that others would recognize him, and 1 acted on the 
impulse of the moment and wrote to Tom, telling him to 
be here on Saturday evening. The letter is gone.” 

“ Well, we must shelter him as best we can.” 

“ Harold, dear Harold, what can be done to clear him?” 

“It is a case encompassed with difficulties,” said Mr. 
Clifton. 

“ Let us wait till Tom comes.” 


CHAPTER XXX1I1. 

In the gray parlor, in the dark shadow of the April 
evening, for it was getting on into night, were Frank Clif- 
ton and Hazel. It had been a warm day, but the spring 
evenings were chilly, and a fire burned in the grate. There 
was no blaze, the red embers were smoldering and half 


ME. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 2 31 

dead. Frank lay on the sofa, and Mme. Septier sat by 
looking at him. Her glasses were off, for the tears wetted 
them continually, and it was not the recognition of the 
children that she feared. Presently Frank opened his eyes. 

44 How long will it be before 1 die?” 

The words took her utterly by surprise, and her heart 
went round in a whirl. 

“ What do you mean, Frank? Who said anything about 
your dying?” 

“ Oh, I know; I know by the fuss there is over me. 
You heard what Martha said the other night?” 

“ What— when?” 

“ When she brought in the tea, and 1 was lying on the 
rug. I was not asleep, though you thought so. You told 
her she ought to be more cautious, for I might not have 
been asleep.” 

“ Martha talks great nonsense sometimes.” 

“ She said 1 was going fast on to the grave.” 

44 Did she? Nobody minds what she says. She is only 
a foolish girl. We shall soon have you well, when the 
warm weather comes.” 

44 Madame Septier.” 

“ Well, my darling?” 

“ What is the matter with me?” 

“ Nothing, only you are not strong. When you get 
strong again you will be as well as ever.” 

44 Then if there’s nothing the matter with me, why 
could not the doctor speak to you before me to-day? Why 
did he send me out of the room while he told you what he 
thought? Ah! Madame Septier, 1 am as wise as you.” 

“ A wise little boy, but mistaken sometimes,” she said, 
from her aching heart. 

“ It’s nothing to die when God loves us, madame. 
Don’t you know that 1 am going to die?” 

44 No.” 

“ Then, why have you been grieving since the doctor 
left, and why do you grieve at all for me? I am not 
your boy. ” 

The words, the scene altogether, overcame her. She 
knelt down by the sofa, and her tears burst forth freely. „ 

“ There, you see!” cried Frank. 

44 Oh, Frank! I— I had a little boy of my own once, and 
when I look at you I think of him, and that is why I cry.’ 5 


232 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

“ I know. You have told us of him before. His name 
was Frank, too.” 

He lay back on the sofa-pillow, with a weary sigh, and 
lay in silence. Hazel shaded her face and remained in 
silence also. Soon she was aroused from it. Frank was 
in a fit of loud, sobbing tears. 

“Oh, 1 don’t want to die! I don’t want to die! Why 
should I go and leave papa and Ethel?” 

She hung over him; she clasped her arms round him; 
her tears, her sobs mingled with his. She whispered to 
him sweet and soothing words; she placed him so that he 
might sob out his grief upon her bosom, and in a little 
while the paroxysm had passed. 

“ Hark!” exclaimed Frank. “ What’s that?” 

“ All in the dark, and your fire going out!” exclaimed 
Lulu, who had entered. 

She hastened to stir the fire and send it in a blaze. 

“ Who is that on the sofa? Frank, you ought to be in 
bed.” 

“ Hot yet, mamma. I don’t want to go yet.” 

“ But it is quite time that you should,” she returned, 
ringing the bell. “ To sit up, at night is not the way to 
make yourself strong. ” 

And thus the boy was dismissed. 

“ Lulu, my dearest!” 

The voice was Mr. Clifton’s, and she flew off on the 
wings of love— flew off to her idolized husband, leaving 
her, who had once been idolized, to her loneliness. She 
knew well that one word from her or dropping her disguise 
would separate Lulu and Harold as sure as they were now 
man and wife in the eyes of the world; but if she did, 
would he not spurn her from him and remove her children 
that she might never see them again? She could not do it, 
she preferred a thousand deaths to that. 

A sighing, moaning wind swept round the domains of 
the Barrington estate, bending the tall poplar-trees in 
the distance, swaying the oaks and elms nearer, rustling 
the fine old chestnuts in the park — a melancholy, sweeping, 
fitful wind. The weather had changed, gathering clouds, 
seemed to be threatening rain. So at least deemed one way- 
farer who was journeying on a solitary road that Saturday 
night — a man in the garb of a sailor, with black hair and 
whiskers. The glazed hat, brought low upon the brows. 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTOM. 


233 


concealed his face still more, and he wore a loose rough 
jacket and wide rough trousers hitched up with a belt. 
Bearing steadily on, he struck into the side road already 
mentioned, and from thence, passing through a small un- 
frequented gate, he found himself in the grounds of Mr. 
Clifton. 

“ Let's see," mused he, as he closed the gate behind 
him and slipped its bolt. “ The covered walk? That 
must be near the lilac -trees. Then I must wind round to 
the right. I wonder if either of them will be there wait- 
ing for me?" 

Yes. Pacing the covered walk, wrapped in a dark man- 
tle, as if taking an evening stroll (had any one encount- 
ered her, which was very unlikely, seeing that it was the 
most retired spot on the grounds!) was Mrs. Clifton. 

“ Oh, Tom! my poor brother!" 

Locked in a yearning embrace, emotion overpowered 
both. Lulu sobbed like a child. 

“ Why have you summoned me here. Lulu? What is 
the trouble? What has turned up?" 

“ Tilford has— -I think. You would know him again, 
Tom?" 

“ Know him,!" passionately echoed Tom Osborne. 

“ Were you aware that a contest for the mayoralty is 
now going on in Barrington?" 

“ 1 saw it in the papers. Clifton against St. Clare. 
Lulu, how could he think of coming here to oppose Clif- 
ton?" 

“ I don't know. First of all, Tom, tell me how you 
came to know Captain St. Clare. You said you knew him, 
and that you had seen him with Tilford. " 

“So I do know him," answered Tom. “ And I saw 
him with Tilford twice." 

“ Know him by sight only, 1 presume? Let me hear 
how you came to know him." 

“ He was pointed out to me. 1 saw Tilford walking 
arm in arm with a gentleman, and I showed them to the 
water-man at the cab-stand near by. 

“ 4 Do you know that fellow?’ 1 asked him, indicating 
Tilford— for I wanted to come at who he really was. 

“ ‘ I don't know that one,' the old man answered, ‘ but 
the one with him is St. Clare. They are often together— 
a couple of swells. ' " 


234 ME. CLIFTOM OF BAEEINGTOM. 

“ And that was how you got to know St. Clare?** 

“ That was it/’ said Tom Osborne. 

“ Then, Tom, you and the water-man made a mistake 
between you. He pointed out the wrong one, or you did 
not look at the right. Tilford is St. Clare. ** 

Tom stared at her with all his eyes. 

“ Nonsense, Lulu!” 

“ He is. I have suspected it ever since the night you 
saw him in the side road. On Thursday 1 drove past by 
the speakers* stand when he was addressing the people, 
and I noticed the action you described of his pushing back 
his hair and the sparkling diamond ring. On the impulse 
of the moment I wrote off for you, that you might come 
and set the doubt at rest. I need not have done so, for 
when Mr. Clifton returned home that evening, and I ac- 
quainted him with what 1 had done, he told me that Til- 
ford and Redmond St. Clare are one and the same. Gurdy 
Hood recognized him that same afternoon, and so did Mr. 
Stafford.** 

“ They would both know him!** cried Tom, eagerly. 
“ Stafford, I am sure, would; for he was sneaking down to 
TruesdelTs often then, and saw Tilford a dozen times. 
Gurdy Hood must have seen him also — though he pro- 
tested he had not. ** 

“ Lulu!** 

The name was uttered in affright, and Tom plunged 
amid the trees, for somebody was in sight — a tall, dark 
form advancing from the end of the walk. Lulu smiled; 
it was only Mr. Clifton, and Tom emerged again. 

“ Fears still, Tom!** Mr. Clifton exclaimed, as he shook 
Tom cordially by the hand. “ So you have changed your 
traveling-costume. ** 

“ 1 couldn*t venture here again in the old suit; it had 
been seen, you said,** returned Tom. “ I bought this rig- 
out yesterday, second-hand. Mr. Clifton, Lulu says that 
St. Clare and that brute Tilford have turned out to be the 
same.** 

“ They have, Tom, as it appears. Nevertheless, it may 
be as well for you to take a private view of Tilford before 
anything is done— as you once did of the other Tilford. It 
would not do to make a stir and then discover 'that there 
was a mistake— that he was not Tilford.** 

When can I see him?” asked Tom, eagerly. 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 235 

44 It must be contrived somehow. Were you to hang 
about the doors of the hotel this evening you’d be sure to 
get the opportunity, for he is always passing in and out. 
No one will know you.” 

44 1 shall look odd to people’s eyes. You don’t see many 
sailors in Barrington.” 

44 Not odd at all. Do you think, Tom, that it will turn 
out that Curdy Hood had anything to do with the mur- 
der?” 

Tom shook his head. 

44 It was not possible, Mr. Clifton; I have said so all 
along. But about St. Clare. If I find him to be the man 
Tilford, what steps can then be taken?” 

44 That’s difficult,” said Mr. Clifton. 

44 Who will set it a-going? Who will move in it?” 

44 You must, Tom.” 

44 1?” uttered Tom, in consternation. 44 1 move in it?” 

44 You yourself. Who else is there? 1 have been think- 
ing it well over.” 

44 Will you not take it upon yourself, Harold?” 

4 No — being St. Clare,” was the quiet reply. 

44 And what can 1 do?” wailed poor Tom. 

44 Your acting in this affair need not put you any the 
more in jeopardy. You must stay in the neighborhood a 
few days.” 

44 1 dare not,” interposed Tom, in a fright. 

4 ‘ Listen, Tom. You must put away these fears. Do 
you suppose I 'would advise you for danger? You used to 
say there was some place a mile or two from here where 
you could stay in safety.” 

44 And so there is, but I always feel safer away from it.” 

44 There your quarters must be for two or three days at 
least. I have turned matters over in my own mind, and 
will tell you what I think should be done, so far as the 
preliminary step.” 

44 Well, what is it?” 

44 Apply to Price & Thornton, and get them to take it 
up. ” 

44 Why, Price & Thornton would walk me off to prison 
as soon as 1 showed myself 1” 

44 Nothing of the sort, Tom. I do not tell you to go 
openly to their office as another client would. What I 
would advise is this; make a friend of Mr. Thornton; he 


236 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

can be a good man and true if lie chooses. Tell the whole 
story to him in a private place, and ask him whether he 
will carry it through. If he is fully impressed with the 
conviction that you are innocent, and the other guilty, as 
the facts appear to be, he will undertake it. Price need 
know nothing of the affair at first, and when Thornton 
puts things in motion he need not know where you are to 
be found. ” 

“I don’t dislike Thornton,” mused Tom; “and if he 
would only give his word to be true, I know he would be. 
The difficulty will be, who is to get the promise from 
him?” 

“ I will,” said Mr. Clifton. “ 1 will so far pave fh * way 
for you. That done, I am through. Your first move, 
Tom, must be to go to this place of concealment which 
you know of, and remain quiet there until Monday. On 
Monday at dusk be here again. Meanwhile, I will see 
Thornton. By the way, though, 1 must hear from your- 
self that Tilford and St. Clare are one before speaking to 
Thornton. ” 

“ I'll go down to the hotel at once,” eagerly cried Tom. 
“ I’ll come back here into this walk as soon as 1 have ob- 
tained sight of him.” 

With the last words he turned and was speeding off, 
when Lulu caught him. 

“ You will be so tired, Tom!” 

“Tired? Not I.” 

And away he sped. He reached that part of Barrington 
where the hotel was situated, and was so far favored by 
fortune that he had not long to wait. Scarcely had he 
taken his place outside, when two gentlemen came from it 
arm in arm. Being the head-quarters of one of the candi- 
dates, the idlers of the place thought that they could not 
do better than make it their head-quarters also. ' Tom only 
added one to the rest. 

Two gentlemen came out arm in arm. The loiterers 
raised a feeble shout of “ St. Clare forever!” Tom did 
not join in the shout. The one was Tilford, the other the 
gentleman who had been with Tilford in New York, 
pointed out to him, as he believed, as Captain St. Clare. 

“ Which of those two is St. Clare?’’ he inquired of a 
jnan near where he stood. 


MR. CLIFTOK OF FARRINGTON. 237 

u Don't you know? He with the hat off, bowing his 
thanks to us, is St. Glare. " 

Ho need to inquire further. It was Tilford of Tom's 
memory. His ungloved hand, raised to his hat, was* white 
as ever, and the diamond ring flashed in the gas-light. By 
the hand and ring alone Tom could have sworn to the man 
had it been needful. 

“ Who is the other one?" he continued. 

“ His name is Scott. Be you for Clifton, sailor, or oe 
you for St. Glare?" 

"I am for neither. I am only a stranger passing 
through the town." 

“ On the tramp?" 

“Tramp? No." 

And Tom moved away, to make the best of his progress 
back to the Barrington estate. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

Mr. Clifton took his seat in his private room, opened 
his letters, sorted them, marked on the back of some what 
was to be the purport of their answers, and then called in 
Mr. Faber. 

Mr. Clifton put the letters in his hands, gave some rapid 
instructions, and arose. 

“ Are you in a hurry, Mr. Clifton?" 

“ They want me at head-quarters. Why?" 

“ A curious incident occurred to me last evening, sir. 
1 overheard a dispute between St. Clare and Gurdy Hood." 

“ Indeed," replied Mr. Clifton, who was looking for 
something in his desk. 

“ And what I heard would go far to hang St. Clare, if 
not Hood. As sure as we are here, Mr. Clifton, they hold 
the secret of TruesdelPs murder. If some one would take 
up Tom Osborne's cause now, he might be proved inno- 
cent," added the old man, with a wistful look. 

“ It is being taken up, Faber." 

A pause and a glad look. 

“ That's the best news 1 have had for many a day, sir. 
But my evidence will be necessary in the case." 

“I am not taking up the case. Thornton has had a 
meeting with Tom Osborne, and is now acting for him." 


238 MU. CLIFTON OF BARftlNGTOfr. 

64 1 will go to their office at once, Mr. Clifton, and in- 
form them of what I overheard, ” said Mr. Faber. 

Merrily arose Barrington on Thursday morning; merrily 
rang out'the bells, clashing and chiming. The street was 
alive with people; the windows were crowded with heads; 
something unusual was astir- It was the day of election 
of the two candidates, and everybody took the opportunity 
to make a holiday. 

Ten o’clock was the time named. But before that hour 
struck Barrington was crammed. The country people had 
come in thick and threefold, rich and poor, people of 
note, and people of none, voters and non-voters — all 
eager to mix themselves up in the day’s proceedings. You 
see, the notorious fact of St. Clare having come forward to 
oppose Mr. Clifton caused greater interest to be attached 
to this election. Lulu drove in to Barrington in her car- 
riage, the two children and the governess being with her. 

They alighted at the residence of Miss Clifton. Quite a 
gathering was already there. Miss Clifton was in great 
grandeur — a brocaded dress and a scarlet bow in front of 
it the size of a pumpkin. 

Mr. Clifton saw them at the windows of the huge upper 
drawing-room and came in; he was then on his way to the 
town-hall. Shaking hands, laughter, hearty and hasty 
good wishes, and he quitted the room again. As he made 
his appearance in the crowd again some one shouted: 

44 Clifton and honor forever!” 

The ladies laughed and shook their handkerchiefs. The 
crowd took up the shout till the very air echoed with it. 

“ A galaxy of beauty!” whispered Mr. Scott, in the ear 
of Redmond St. Clare. “ How the women rally around 
him! 1 tell you what, St: Clare, you and the government 
were stupid to go on with the contest, and I said so days 
ago. You have no more chance against Clifton than that 
bit of straw in the air has against the wind. You ought 
to have withdrawn in time. ” 

4 4 Like a coward!” angrily retorted St. Clare. 44 No; 
I’ll go on with it to the end.” 

But ere another word could be spoken, some one in 
the garb of a policeman, who had made his way through 
the crowd, laid his hand on St. Clare. 

44 Captain Redmond St. Clare, you are my prisoner!” 

Nothing worse than debt occurred at the moment to the 


Mil. CLIFTOM OF BARRINGTOtf. 239 

mind of Captain St. Clare. But that was enough, and he 
turned purple with rage. 

44 Your hands off, vermin! How dare you?” 

A quick movement, a slight click, a bustle from the 
wondering crowd more immediately around, and the hand- 
cuffs were on. Utter amazement alone prevented Mr. 
Scott from knocking down the policeman. 

4 4 Fm sorry to do it in this public place and manner,” 
said the officer, 44 but I couldn't come across him last 
night, do as 1 would. And the warrant has been in my 
hands since five o'clock yesterday afternoon. Redmond 
St. Clare, I arrest you for the willful murder of Jacob 
Truesdell!” 

The crowd fell back, almost paralyzed with conster- 
nation; the word was passed from one extreme of it to 
another. Excitement grew high. The ladies, looking from 
Miss Clifton's windows, saw what happened, though they 
could not divine the cause. Some of them turned pale 
when they saw the handcuffs. 

Pale? What was their paleness compared with the 
frightfully livid hue that disfigured the features of Captain 
St. Clare? His face was a terror to look upon! Once or 
twice he gasped as if in an agony, and then his eyes hap- 
pened to fall on Gurdy Hood, who stood near. 

44 You hound! It is you who have done this!” 

44 No, by—” 

Whether Gurdy Hood was about to swear by Jupiter or 
Juno, never was decided, the sentence being ignominiously 
cut short at the above two words. Another policeman, in 
the summary manner exercised toward St. Clare, had 
clapped a pair of handcuffs on him. 

4 ‘ Gurdy Hood, I arrest you as an accomplice in the 
murder of Jacob Truesdell!” 

44 1 swear that I am innocent!” passionately uttered 
Gurdy Hood. 

44 Well, sir, you have only got to prove it,” civilly re- 
joined the policeman. 

Miss Clifton leaned from the window, her curiosity too 
excited to remain silent longer. Mrs. Osborne was stand- 
ing by her side. 

“ What’s the matter?” she asked of the upturned faces 
immediately beneath. 

44 Them two, the fine mayor as wanted to be, and young 


240 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

Hood be arrested for murder,” spoke a man's clear voice, 
in answer. “ The story runs as they murdered Truesdell, 
and then laid it on the shoulders of young Tom Osborne, 
who didn't do it, after all.” 

A faint, wailing cry of startled pain, and Lulu flew to 
Mrs. Osborne, from whom it proceeded. 

“ Oh! mamma, my dear mamma, take comfort. Do 
not suffer this to agitate you to illness. Tom is innocent, 
and it will surely be so proved.'' 

Mr. Clifton had seen the look on Mrs. Osborne's face, 
and he ran up qmickly. Into another room, away from 
the gay visitors, they got Mrs. Osborne, and Mr. Clifton 
locked the door to keep them out. Only himself and his 
wife were with her, except Mme. Septier, who had been 
dispatched by somebody with a bottle of smelling-salts. 

Lulu knelt at her mamma's feet; Mr. Clifton leaned 
over her, her hands sympathizingly held in his. 

“ Oh, Harold, tell me the truth! You will not deceive 
me?” she gasped, in earnest entreaty, the cold dew gath- 
ering on her pale, gentle face. “ Is the time come to 
prove my boy's innocence?” 

“It is.” 

“ Is it possible that it can be that false, bad man who is 
guilty?” 

“ From my soul I believe him to be,” replied Mr. Clif- 
ton, glancing round to make sure that none should hear 
the assertion save those present. “Dear Mrs. Osborne, 
take courage, take comfort; happier days are coming round. 
Take care of her, my darling,” Mr. Clifton whispered to 
his wife. “ Don't leave her. 1 beg pardon, madame.” 

His hand had touched Mme. Septier's neck in turning 
round.- He unlocked the door and regained the street, 
while Mme. Septier sat down with her beating and rebell- 
ious heart. 

Amid the shouts, the jeers, and the escort of the mob, 
St. Clare and Hood were lodged in the station-house. 
Never was so mortifying an interruption known. So 
thought St. Clare's party. And they deemed it well, 
after some consultation among themselves, to withdraw his 
name as a candidate. 

After the short work the officers had made of St. Clare, 
many of his party went over to the Clifton side. Loud 
and long were the shouts of “ Honor and Clifton forever!” 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 241 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A pleasant party it was at the Barrington estate the 
night after the election, and twelve o’clock struck before 
the last carriage of guests drove away. It might have been 
one or two hours after that, and the house steeped in moon- 
light and quietness, everybody being abed and asleep, when 
a loud, alarming summons at the hall bell echoed through 
the stillness. 

The first to put her head out of the window was Cora. 

“ Is it fire?” shrieked she, in the most excessive state of 
terror conceivable. Cora had a natural dread of fire — 
some people possess this dread more than others — and had 
oftentimes aroused the house to a commotion by declaring 
that she smelled it. “ Is it fire?” shrieked Cora. 

“ Yes,” was shouted at the very top of a man’s voice, 
who stepped from the entrance pillars to answer. 

Cora waited for no more. Clutching at the baby with 
one hand and little Harold with the other, out she flew to 
the corridor, screaming “ Fire! fire! fire!” in every ac- 
cent of horror. Into Frank’s room, and dragging him out 
of bed; into Ethel’s, and dragging her out; banging open 
the door of Mme. Septier’s room, and the shrieks, “ Fire! 
fire! fire!” never ceasing. Cora, with the four children, 
burst unceremoniously into the sleeping apartment of Mr. 
and Mrs. Clifton. By this time the children, terrified out 
of their senses, not at Cora’s cry of alarm, but at the sum- 
marypropelling down-stairs, set up a shrieking too. Mme. 
Septier, believing that half of the house at least was in 
flames, was the next to appear, throwing on a shawl she 
had caught up, and then came Sally. 

“Fire! fire! fire!” shouted Cora. “We’re all being 
burned up together!” 

Poor Mrs. Clifton, thus wildly aroused from sleep, sprung 
out of bed and into the corridor in her night-dress. And 
when Mr. Clifton, who had stopped to put on some of his 
clothes, came out and found that his wife in her haste had 
fallen down half a flight of stairs, t he cast a rapid glance 
down the hall, and saw no fire, and no signs of any. He 
hastened to his wife, who was struggling to her feet. 

Everybody round him was shrieking in concert, making 


24:2 UR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

the confusion and din terrific. The bright moonlight 
streamed in at the corridor windows, but there was no 
other light. 

4 4 Where is the fire?” he asked. 44 1 don’t smell any. 
Who gave the first alarm?” 

The bell answered him — the hall bell, which rang out 
ten times louder and longer than before. He opened one 
of the windows and leaned from it. 

44 Who’s there?” 

Mme. Septier caught up little Harold. 

44 It’s me, sir,” responded a voice, which he at once 
recognized to be that of one of Mr. Osborne’s men-serv- 
ants. 44 Mr. Osborne is in a fit, sir, and Mrs. Osborne sent 
me for you and Mrs. Clifton. You must please make 
haste, sir, if you want to see him alive!” 

44 You, James? Is the house on fire — this house?” 

44 Well, I don’t know, sir. I can hear a dreadful deal of 
screeching in it.” 

Mr. Clifton closed the window. He began to suspect 
that the danger lay in fear alone. 

44 Who told you there was a fire?” he demanded of 
Cora. 

44 That man ringing at the door>’ ’ sobbed Cora. 44 Thank 
goodness, 1 have saved the children!” 

Mr. Clifton was exasperated at the mistake. His wife 
was trembling from head to foot, and he knew that she 
must be hurt from the fall down the stairs, and she was 
not in a condition to be alarmed. She clung to him in 
terror, asking if they could escape. 

44 My darling, be calm. There is no fire. It is a stupid 
mistake. You may all go back to bed and sleep in peace,” 
he added to the rest. 44 And the next time you alarm the 
house in the night, Cora, have the goodness to make your- 
self sure, first of all, that there’s cause for it.” 

Lulu, frightened still, bewildered, and uncertain, full of 
pain, escaped to the window and threw it open. But Mr. 
Clifton was nearly as quick as she; he caught her to him 
with one hand, and drew the window down with the other. 
To have these tidings told to her abruptly would be worse 
than all. By this time some of the servants had descended 
the other stairs with a light (being in various stages of cos- 
tume), and hastening to open the hall door, James en- 
tered. 


Mil. CLIFT03T OF BARRINGTON. 243 

Lulu caught sight of him ere Mr. Clifton could prevent 
it, and grew still worse with fear, believing some ill had 
happened to her mother. 

Drawing her inside their room, he broke the news to her 
soothingly and tenderly, making light of it. 

“Now, my deai^, go” back to bed, and 1 will hasten to 
see your papa.” 

At that time Lulu recollected Frank — strange that she 
should be the first to do so — before Hazel or Mr. Clifton. 
She ran out again to the corridor, where the boy stood 
shivering. 

“ He may have caught his death!” she uttered, snatch- 
ing him up in her arms. “ Oh, Cora! what have you 
done? His night-robe is damp and cold.” 

Unfit as she was for the burden, she bore him to her own 
bed. 

“ Just feel his night-robe, Harold! Cora — ” 

A shrill cry of awful terror interrupted the words, and 
Mr. Clifton made but one bound out again. Lulu dropped 
helpless to the floor. She could stand no more. 

Cora, with the baby and Ethel, had already disappeared 
up the stairs, and Mme. Septier was disappearing. Sally 
stood holding on to the balustrades, her face ghastly, her 
mouth open, her eyes fixed in horror — altogether an object 
to look upon. 

“ Why, Sally, what is the matter with you?” cried Mr. 
Clifton. “ You look as if you had seen a ghost.” 

“ Oh!” she wailed, “ I have seen one.” 

“Are you all going deranged together?” retorted he, 
wondering what had come to the house. “ Seen a ghost, 
Sally?” 

Sally fell on her knees, as if unable to support herself, 
and crossing her shaking hands upon her chest. Had she 
seen ten ghost$, she could not have betrayed more dire dis- 
tress. She was a sensible and faithful servant, one not 
given to flights of fancy, and Mr. Clifton gazed at her in 
amazement. 

“Sally, what is this?” he asked, bending down and 
speaking kindly. 

“ Oh, Mr. Clifton! Heaven have mercy upon us all!” 
was the inexplicable answer. 

“ Sally, I ask you what is the matter?” 

She made no reply. She rose up, shaking, and taking 


iii HR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

little Harold’s hand, slowly proceeded toward the stairs, 
low moans breaking from her, the boy’s naked feet pat- 
tering on the carpet. 

Frank’s voice was heard calling his papa to come to 
Lulu. Mr. Clifton was filled with alarm; he gently lifted 
his wife up and placed her on the bed; he applied such re- 
storatives as he had on hand, but it was some time before 
she fully regained consciousness. 

“ What was it?” whispered Lulu. 

“ Cora’s folly has turned the house topsy-turvy. If you 
are quite sure you feel better, dearest, I will hasten to see 
what is the trouble at.your father’s house.” 

“ Do, with all speed, Harold dear! I think I will rest 
better as soon as I hear what it is.” 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Eight months have passed since the night of the false 
alarm of fire. And what had the months brought forth 
since the election of Mr. Clifton as Mayor of Barrington? 
Be you very sure they had not been without their events. 

J udge Osborne’s illness had turned out to be a stroke of 
paralysis. People can not act with unnatural harshness 
and impunity toward a child, and then discover they have 
been in the wrong. Thus it proved with J udge Osborne. 
He was recovering, but would never again be the man he 
had been. The fright when James had gone to tell of his 
illness at Mr. Clifton’s had proved the death-blow to poor 
Lulu. It was not many weeks after that Mr. Clifton stood 
by the open grave of his second wife and baby girl. 

Ah, me! once more the Barrington estate was shrouded 
in sorrow. Who would be the next? was the uppermost 
thought in Mr. Clifton’s mind. Perhaps he. Was not his 
heart bowed down with sorrow? And what relief to lie 
down to rest in the grave with his pretty wife and child. 

Frank had caught cold, which brought increased malady 
to the lungs, and Sally seemed to have caught fear. She 
went about more like one in a dream than awake, would be 
buried in a reverie for an hour at a time, and if suddenly 
spoken to would start and shiver. 

But Frank was rapidly fading away. The physicians 
had given him up, and it was evident to all that the end 
could not be long in coming. 


MR. CLIFTOM OF BARRIMGTOM. 


245 


Thin, haggard, pale, looked Sfc. Clare when his case 
came up for trial. His incarceration had not in any way 
contributed to his personal advantage, and there was an 
ever-recurring expression of dread upon his countenance 
not pleasant to look upon. The most eminent counsel were 
engaged on both sides 

Tom Osborne was the first called. He came forward, a 
fair, placid young man, with blue eyes, fair hair, and a 
pleasant countenance. He had resumed his original posi- 
tion in life, so far as attire went, and in that, at least* was 
a gentleman again. 

A strange hubbub arose in court. Tom Osborne, the 
exile, the reported dead man! The spectators arose with 
one accord to get a better view; they stood on tiptoe; they 
put forth their necks, and amid the noisy hum the groan 
bursting from the lips of Judge Osborne was unnoticed. 
Two officers moved quietly up and stood behind the witness. 
Tom Osborne was in custody, though he might know it 
not. The witness was sworn. 

44 What is your name?” 

44 Thomas Osborne.” 

“ Son of Judge Osborne, I believe, of Barrington?” 

44 His only son.” 

“ The same against whom a verdict of willful murder is 
out?” 

“ The same, judge,” replied Tom, who appeared, strange 
as it may seem, to have cast away all his old fear. 

“ Then, witness, let me warn you that you are not obliged 
to answer any question that might tend to criminate your- 
self.” 

“ Judge,” answered Tom, with some emotion, 44 I wish 
to answer any and every question put to me. I have but 
one hope— that the full truth of all pertaining to that fatal 
evening may be made manifest this day.” 

“ Look round at the prisoner,” said the examining coun- 
sel. 44 Do you know him?” 

“ I know him now as Captain Redmond St. Clare. Up 
to last April 1 believed his name was Tilford.” 

There was not much delay in examining the witnesses 
one after the other, and the case for the prosecution closed. 
An able and ingenious speech was made for the defense, 
the learned counsel who offered it contending that' there 
was still no proof of Redmond St. Clare having been the 


246 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

guilty man. Neither was there any proof that the catas- 
trophe was not the result of pure accident. A loaded gun, 
standing against the wall in a small room, was not a safe 
weapon, and he called on the jury not rashly to convict on 
the certainty, but to give the prisoner the benefit of the 
doubt. The judge summed up. Certainly not in the 
prisoner’s favor — but to use the expression of some among 
the audience — dead against him. 

The jury was a very short time absent. The prisoner 
was the color of marble when the jury filed in. There was 
profound silence in the court-room. 

“ How say you, gentlemen of the jury? Guilty or not 
guilty?” 

“ Guilty!” 

It was a silence to be felt, and the prisoner gasped con- 
vulsively once or twice. 

“ But,” added the foreman, “ we wish to recommend 
him to mercy.” 

“ On what grounds?” inquired the judge. 

“ Because we believe that it was not a crime planned by 
the prisoner beforehand, but aro'se from the bad passions 
of the moment, and was so committed. ” 

The judge paused. 

“ Prisoner at the bar! Have you anything to urge why 
the sentence of death should not be passed upon you?” 

The prisoner clutched the front of the dock. He threw 
up his head, as if shaking off the dread fear which had op- 
pressed him. 

“Only this: The jury, in giving their reason for rec- 
ommending me to your mercy, have adopted the right view 
of the case as it actually occurred. When I quitted the girl 
Kate, and went to the cottage for my hat, I no more con- 
templated injuring mortal man than I contemplate it at 
this moment. He was there — the father. In the dispute 
that ensued the catastrophe occurred. It was not willful 
murder.” 

“ Prisoner at the bar, you have been convicted by clear 
and undoubted evidence of the crime of willful murder. 
The jury have pronounced you guilty, and in their verdict 
I entirely coincide. That you took the life of that ill-fated 
and unoffending man there is no doubt; you have yourself 
confessed it. Uncalled, unprepared, and by you unpitied, 
you hurried that poor man into eternity, and you must now 


ME. CLIFTOK OF BARRINGTON'. 247 

expiate the crime with your life. The j ury have recom- 
mended you to mercy. It now remains for me to pass 
upon you the dread sentence of the law. It is that you, 
Redmond St. Clare, be taken back to the place whence you 
came, and thence to the place of execution, and that you be 
there hanged by the neck until you are dead.” 

The court was cleared. The day’s excitement was over. 
Tom was discharged. 

Tom — poor, ill- used Tom, was a free man again. 

Then ensued the scene of all scenes. With one universal 
shout, with one bound, they rallied round Tom. They 
congratulated him, they overwhelmed him with good wishes. 
Had he possessed a hundred hands they would have been 
shaken off. 

And when Tom extricated himself, and turned in his 
pleasant, forgiving, loving nature to his father, the stem 
old judge, forgetting his pride and pomposity, burst into 
tears and sobbed like a child, as he murmured something 
about he also wanting forgiveness. 

“ Dear father,” cried Tom, his own eyes wet, “it is 
forgiven and forgotten already. Think how happy we shall 
be again together — you and I and my mother.” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

By the side of little Frank Clifton’s bed knelt Mme. 
Septier. The time was at hand, and the boy was quite 
reconciled to his fate. The brilliant hectic type of the 
disease had gone from his cheeks, his features were white 
and wasted, and his eyes large and bright. 

“ Madame Septier?” 

“ What, my darling?” 

“ Do you think my own dear mamma will be up there?” 

“Ay! Erelong.” 

“ But how shall 1 know her? You see, 1 have nearly for- 
gotten what she was like. ” 

She leaned over him, laying her forehead upon his wast- 
ed arm. She burst into a flood of impassioned tears. 

“You will know her, never fear, Frank; she has not 
forgotten you.” 

It was seven o’clock that evening when Mr. Clifton re- 
turned home and came into Frank’s room. The boy 
brightened up at the well-known presence. 


248 MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 

“ Papa!” 

Mr. Clifton sat down on the bed and kissed him. The 
passing beams of the sun, slanting from the horizon, shone 
into the room, and Mr. Clifton could view well the dying 
face. The gray hue of death was certainly on it. 

“ Is he worse?” he exclaimed hastily to madame. 

“ He appears worse this evening, sir. More weak.” 

“ Papa, how shall I know my own mamma in heaven?” 

Mr. Clifton did not immediately reply. The question 
may have puzzled him. 

“ She will be in heaven, you know.” 

“Yes, yes, my child. Poor mamma!” 

“ Madame Septier knows she will. She saw her abroad, 
and mamma told her that— what was it, madame?” 

Mme. Septier grew sick with alarm. Mr. Clifton turned 
his eyes upon her scarlet face — as much as he could get to 
see of it. 

“ Mamma was more sorry than she could bear,” went 
on Frank, finding he was not helped. “ She wanted you, 
papa, and she wanted us all, and her heart broke.” 

A flush rose to Mr. Clifton’s brow. He turned inquir- 
ingly to Mme. Septier. 

“ I spoke only as 1 thought it must be. The boy seemed 
troubled about his mother.” 

Mr. Clifton was puzzled more than ever. 

“ Did you meet his mother abroad? 1 scarcely under- 
stand. ” 

She lifted her hand to cover her glowing face. 

“ A long time ago I did.” 

Mr. Clifton did not ask any more questions, for he 
thought there must be some mistake, for the boy’s mother 
was killed the same night she left his house. Mr. Clifton 
went toward her. 

“ Do you perceive the change in his countenance?” 

“ Yes— yes. He has looked like this since a strange fit 
of trembling that come on in the afternoon. Cora thought 
he might be taken for dead. I fear some twenty-four hours 
will end it.” 

Mr. Clifton rested hi^ elbow on the mantel, his head 
bowed upon his hand. 

“ It is hard to lose him. Every one goes from me in 
one way or another, especially those 1 love best.” 

“ Oh, he will be better ofi!” she wailed, choking down 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 


249 


the sobs and the emotion that arose threateningly. “We 
can bear death, it is not the worst parting that the earth 
knows. He will be quit of this cruel world — sheltered in 
heaven. I wish we were all there !" 

A servant came for Mr. Clifton. And when he returned 
to the sick-room the daylight had faded, and a solitary 
candle was placed where its rays could not fall upon the 
child's face. Mr. Clifton took the light in his hand to scan 
that face again. He was lying sideways on the pillow, his 
hollow breath echoing through the room. The light cajised 
him to open his eyes. 

“ Don't, papa, please. 1 like it dark." 

“ Only for one moment, my precious boy." 

And not for more than a moment did Mr. Clifton hold 
it. The blue, pinched ghastly look was there yet. Death 
was certainly coming on quickly. 

At that moment Ethel and little Harold came in on their 
return from their visit to Miss Clifton's. The dying boy 
looked up eagerly. 

“ Good-bye, Ethel," he said, putting out his cold, damp 
hand. 

She took his little hand, then leaned over and kissed him. 

“ Good-bye, Frank; but, indeed, I am not going out 
anywhere." 

“ 1 am," said he. “I am going to heaven. Where's 
Harold?" 

Mr. Clifton lifted Harold on to the bed. Ethel looked 
frightened, Harold surprised. 

“Harold, good-bye; good-bye, dear. 1 am going to 
heaven; to that bright blue sky, you know. I shall see 
mamma there, and I'll tell her that you and Ethel are 
coming soon." 

Ethel, a sensitive child, broke into a loud storm of sobs 
enough to disturb the equanimity of any sober sick-room. 
Cora hastened in at the sound, and Mr. Clifton sent the 
two children away, with soothing promises that they should 
see Frank in the morning, if he continued well enough. 

Down on her knees, her face buried in the counterpane, 
a corner of it stuffed into her mouth, that it might help to 
stifle her agony, knelt Hazel. The moment's excitement 
was well-nigh beyond her strength. Her own child— his 
child; they alone around its death-bed, and she might not 
ask or receive from him a word of comfort, of consolation! 


250 MR. CLIFTON - OF BARRINGTON. 

Lower and lower bent Mr. Clifton over his boy, for his eyes 
were wet with tears. 

The boy nestled himself in his father’s arms, and in a 
few minutes appeared to sleep. Mr. Clifton gently laid 
him on his pillow, and then turned to depart. 

“ Oh, papa, papa! say good-bye to me!” 

Mr. Clifton’s tears fell upon the little upturned face, as 
he once more caught him to his breast. 

“ I will not be long, darling. I am going to bring Aunt 
Fannie to you. ” 

A lingering embrace — a fond, lingering embrace, Mr. 
Clifton holding him to his beating heart. Then he laid 
him comfortably on his pillow. 

“ Good-bye, papa,” came forth the little feeble cry. 

It was not heard. Mr. Clifton was gone— gone from 
his living child forever. Up rose Hazel and flung her arms 
aloft in a storm of sobs. 

“ Oh, Frank darling, in this dying moment look at me — 
your mother!” 

She heard some one entering, and she sunk into the chair 
close beside the bed. It was Sally. Advancing with a 
quiet step she drew aside the clothes to look at Frank. 

“ Mr. Clifton said he wanted me,” she observed. 
“ Why— ah— !” 

It was a sharp, momentary cry, subdued as soon as ut- 
tered. Hazel sprung forward to Sally’s side, looking also. 
The pale young face lay calm in its utter stillness, the busy 
little heart had ceased to beat. He had gone to the Good 
Shepherd. 

Then Hazel lost all self-control. She believed that she 
had reconciled herself to the child’s death, that she could 
part with him without too great emotion. But she had not 
anticipated it would be quite so soon. She had deemed 
that some hours would at least be given him, and now the 
storm overwhelmed her. Crying, sobbing, calling, she 
flung herself upon him; she clasped him to her; she dashed 
off her disguising cap, glasses, wig, loose sacque — all! all! 
all the ugly disguise. There she stood, her beautiful hair fall- 
ing down her back, the Hazel of old, with sorrow and deep 
pain printed on her beautiful face. She laid her face upon 
his, beseeching him to come back to her that he might say 
farewell to her, his mother, her darling boy, her lost child! 

Sally w&s dreadfully terrified — for she heard Mr. Clifton 


MR. CLIFTON OF BARRINGTON. 251 

coming. He was at that moment at the door of the sick- 
room. Sally sprung forward. Her face, in her emotion 
and fear, was of one livid whiteness, and she shook with 
fear. It was only too apparent in the well-lighted hall. 

4 ‘ Sally !” he exclaimed, in amazement, “what airs 
you?” 

'“Oh, Mr. Clifton!” she panted, “be prepared. Mas- 
ter Frank — his mamma — Master Frank — ” 

“Sally! Not dead?” 

“ Alas, yes, sir!” 

Mr. Clifton entered the death-chamber, and walked to 
the bed. 

“ Oh, my—” 

The words failed on his tongue. Did he think, as Sally 
had once done, that it was a ghost he saw? Certain it is 
that his face and lips turned the hue of death, and he 
backed a few steps from the bed on which lay the dead boy, 
though he was as little given to show emotion as man can 
be. The falling hair, the sweet, mournful eyes, the flush 
on her cheeks, which his presence brought there, told too 
plainly of his long lost Hazel. 

“Harold!” 

She put out her trembling hands. 

He looked at her; he looked round the room, as one does 
awaking from a dream. 

“ Hazel! Are you— are you — were you Madame Sep- 
tier?” he cried, scarcely conscious of what he said. 

“ Oh, forgive me! I did not die. 1 got well from that 
accident. Nobody knew me, and I came here as Madame 
Septier. I could not stay away. Harold, forgive me!” 

His mind was in a whirl; his wits were scared away. 

“ I could not stay away from you and my children. The 
longing for you was killing me,” she reiterated, wildly, like 
one talking in a fever. “ 1 never knew a moment's peace 
after the mad act I was guilty of in quitting you. Oyer the 
dead body of our darling boy, I ask you to forgive me, and 
then I will go away in peace!” 

A great load seemed to roll off Mr. Clifton. His beloved 
wife, that he had mourned for so sincerely, was alive and 
before him! 

He opened his arms and drew Hazel to his bosom, and 
there at the bedside of their dead child they were reunited 
ao-ain. Mr. Clifton rang for his two children. They were 


252 ME. CLIFTON OF BAEIIINGTON. 

brought in by Sally. Ethel gave one good look at Hazel, 
and with a glad cry sprung into her arms. Taking little 
Harold on her lap, Ethel leaning upon her knee, while 
her husband pressed her he^d against him, it was thus 
Fannie found them when, a few minutes after, she came 
into the room. Sally had slipped out, and in her delight 
prepared Miss Clifton ere she entered. 

“ Child/* said she, drawing near to Hazel, “will you 
forgive me for my share in driving you away from your 
home?” 

“ Yes, freely,” came the answer. 

And so we will leave them in their sorrow and their hap- 
piness. 

“ Every good thing that we earnestly seek will come with 
time, if we always strive to do right unselfishly.” 


THE END. 


ARE YOU 



And are you not in favor of giving American 
Authors an opportunity to make fame and for- 
tune by the publication and sale of the work 
of their brain? If so we desire to call your 
attention to the fact that the only Publishing 
House in America that publishes only the 
works of American Authors is that of J. S. 
Cgilvie, 57 Rose Street, New York, and we 
ask that you will encourage not only this 
House, but the American Author, who for 
many years has been shut out of the field by 
the constant flood of English Author’s works. 

The most practical way to encourage them 
is to purchase this and other books published 
by this American House. 

Send for a complete catalogue. 

Correspondence with American Authors of 
real merit is solicited. 


BOOKS 

IN PAPER COVERS. 


This is a rew series of paper-covered books, written by 
American authors. Any of them will be sent by mail, 
postpaid, to any address on receipt of price by J. S. Ogilvie, 
the publisher. 

Patience Pettigrew’s Perplexities. By Clara Augusta. Price, 

25 CENTS. 

Adventures of a Skeleton. A Wonderful Story. By B. W. 

Waltermire. Price, 25 cents. 

Peerless Gems of Melody. Containing 80 Pieces for Piano and 
Organ. Full sheet music size. Price, 50 cents. 

Peerless Gems of Dance Music. Containing 78 Pieces Standatf 
Dance Music. Full sheet music size. Price, 50 cents. 
Peerless Gems of Song. Containing 62 Favorite Songs, Words 
and Music. Full sheet music size. Price, 50 cents. 

Her Mad Love. By Gerald Carlton. Price, 25 cents. 
Kreutzer Sonata Bearing Fruit. By Pauline Grayson. 25 cents. 
The Wedding Ring. By Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage. 25 cents. 
Woman, and Her Power. By Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage. 
Price, 25 cents. 

The Battle for Bread. By Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage. 25 CENTS. 
Izma; or, Sunshine and Shadow. By M. Ozella Shields. 25 cents. 
Friendship’s Test. By Amelia Burdette. Price, 25 cents. 
Diary of a Village Gossip. By Almedia M. Brown. 25 cents. 
Diary of a Minister’s Wife. Part 1. By Almedia M. Brown. 
Price, 25 cents. 

Diary of a Minister’s Wife. Part 2. By Almedia M. Brown. 

Price, 25 cents. 

A Bad Boy’s Diary. Price, 25 cents. 

Blunders of a Bashful Man. By author of “ A Bad Boy’s 
Diary.” Price, 25 cents. 

Twenty Five Good Sermons. By Twenty-five Prominent 
Clergymen. Price, 25 cents. 

( 1 ) 


POPULAR BOOKS. — Continued. 


Ogilvie’s House Plans; or, How to Build a House. 25 cents. 

“Not Guilty.” By author of “The Original Mr. Jacobs.” 
Price, 25 cents. 

The Album Writer’s Friend. By J. S. Ogilvie. Price, 15 cents. 

Three Thousand Things Worth Knowing. By R. Moore. 

Price, 50 cents. 

Gathered Gems. By Rev. T. DeWitt Talmage. Containing 
Thirty Sermons by this popular preacher. Price, 50 

CENTS. 

Grand Wonder Collection of Information. Price, 50 cents, 
Palliser’s American Architecture. Price, $1.00. 

A Red Hot Trip. By D. B. Shaw. Price, 25 cents 


THE SUNNYSIDE SERIES. 


No, 

1 The Secret Sorrow. By Mrs. May Agnes Fleming. Price 

25 CENTS. 

2 Funny Stories. Funny enough to make a horse laugh. 150 

illustrations. Price, 25 cents. 

3 Witty Sayings selected from all sources. 140 illustrations. 

Price, 25 cents. 

4 Which Shall It Be ? By Mrs. M. B. W. Parrish. Price, 25 

CENTS. 

5 How to Entertain a Social Party. Price, 25 cents. 

6 Ogilvie’s Handy Book of Useful Information. Price, 25 

CENTS. 

7 The Sunnyside Cook Book. Price, 25 cents. 

8 The Sunnyside Collection of Readings and Recitations. No. 

1. Compiled by J. S. Ogilvie. Price/25 cents. 

9 The Funny World. 125 illustrations. Price, 25 cents. 

10 Looking Behind. By Frederick Alva Dean. Price, 25 

CENTS. 

11 A Forced Marriage. By Frederick W. Pearson. Price, 25 

CENTS. 

12 The Victim of His Clothes. By Howard Fielding and Fred> 

erick R. Burton. 

( 2 ) 



JUST PUBLISHED. 


PKLLISSR'S 


Miscellaneous Architectural Designs and Details 



FOR 

CARPENTERS AND BUILD- 
ERS, MECHANICS AND 
ALL PEOPLE IN- 
TENDING TO 
BUILD. 

BY THE MOST POPULAR 
ARCHITECTS, 

F ALLISES, PALLISEB & CO. 


Miniature cut of Stable and Carriage House, 
by Palliser, Palliser & Co., Architects, New York. 


This work contains 96 pages , 
mostly all plates 11x14 in size, 
nearly 1,000 drawings and il- 
lustrations, giving plans, ele- 
vations and perspective views 
of Barns, Stables and Carriage 
Houses, Greenl.o ise. Sum- 
mer House, a Model Poul- 
try House, Outhouses, Bath Houses and Pavilion, 3 Designs for Cottages of 
moderate cost, 3 f rame Double Houses, 3 Southern Houses, 2 Villas— with De- 
rails, 11 City Brick Fronts— with Details, 4 Frame Low-Cost Tenement Houses— 
with Details. Also Details of Brick, Terra Colta and Wooden Mantels in great 
variety, Stairs, Newels, Posts, Rails and Balusters, Fences, Gateways, Railings, 
etc., Elevation and Section of Brick and Stone Bank Front- with Plan of Front, 
Brick Cornices and Sections, 9 Iron Finials and Crests, 5 Terra Cotta Finials and 
Ridge Crests, 6 Wood Finials and 5 Ridge Crests in Wood, Cornices and Sections, 
Gables, Plan and Elevation of Area Cover, Ornamental Front Brick Work— with 
Terra Cotta Name Tablet, Frieze, Belts and Panels, Niche in BrickWork for 
Statue, One Story of House in Brick— with tile and ornamental brick and b rick 
cornice, Cornice and Pediment for half of 25-foot Front, Brick Bracket and 
Stone Corbel, Cornice in Terra Cotta or Galvanized Iror , 5 Chimney Tops — with 
plans, Bay Window, Piazza and Exterior Cottage Details, Fire Screen Frames, 
Dining-Room Extension Table, Picture Stand, Library Table, Hall Stand, Hall 
Chair, Dining-Room Chairs, Hanging Toilet Stand, Side Tables, Side Boards, 
Couch. Seats, Wardrobe and Bachelor’s Dressing-case, Stand and Wardrobe, 
17 Front Outside Doors— with Sections of Rails, Moulds and Panels, Interior 
Door Trim, Wainscotting, Paneled Ceiling, etc., etc., plainly drawn so as to be 
easily understood and appreciated by the practical man ; also Form of Building 
Contract and a complete illustrated list of the best publications issued on the 
subject of building, compiled as a valuable adviser for students of architecture, 
carpenters, builders and mechanics, as well as the public in general. 

This book bound in paper cover will be sent by mail, postpaid, to any ad- 
dress on receipt of price, $1.00. Address all orders to 

J, S. OGILVIE, Publisher, 

57 Rose Street, New York. 


P. O. Box 2767. 



ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT 
BUILDING A HOUSE? 



If you q re, you ought to buy the new book, Balliser’s 
American Architecture , or every man a complete builder, 
prepared by Palliser, Palliser & Co., the well known architects. 


There is no + a Builder or any one intending to Build or 
otherwise interested that can afford to be without it. It is a 
practical work and everybody buys it. The best, cheapest and 
most popular work ever issued on building. Nearly four hun- 
dred drawings. A $5 book in size and style, but we have deter- 
mined to make it meet the popular demand, to suit the times, so 
that it can be easily reached by all. 

This book contains 104 pages 11 x 14 inches in size, and con- 
sists of large 9x 12 plate pages giving plans, elevations, per- 
spective views, descriptions, owners’ names, actual cost of con- 
struction, no guess work, and instructions How to Build 
70 Cottages, Villas, Double Houses, Brick Block Houses, suitable 
for city suburbs, town and country, houses for the farm and 
workingmen’s homes for all sections of the country, and costing 
from $300 to $6,500 ; also Barns, Stables, School House, Town 
Hall, Churches, and other public buildings, together with speci- 
fications, form of contract, and a large amount of information on 
the erection of buildings, selection of site, employment of Archi- 
tects. It is worth $5. 00 to an y one, but I will send it in paper 
cover by mail postpaid on receipt of $1.00; bound in cloth, $2,00. 

Address all orders to J. S. QG1LVIE, Publisher, 

P. O. Box 2767. " 57 Rose St.. New York. 











